


Eclipse Of The Soul

by SHaria



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, M/M, Sexual Content, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-27
Updated: 2010-08-04
Packaged: 2018-10-01 01:00:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 36
Words: 137,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10176995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SHaria/pseuds/SHaria
Summary: Eclipse is the first fic in the trilogy: The Tenacity of Love.This trilogy is a sumptuously enormous Snarry which follows Harry and Severus on a lifelong journey.Eclipse begins the summer after Harry's fifth year and follows the nacient phase of their relationship as they go from mutual dislike- to mutual respect- then friendship and finally- romance. Eclipse of the Soul ends exactly where The Catamite begins.Thanks to Sher and Winoniel for their contributions as betas on the early chapters and my eternal, unbounded thanks go to Steppenwolf for editing the majority of this fic. He has taught me so much, pushes me when I need to be pushed and his honesty is priceless.All rights belong to JKR, WB, Scholastic, Bloomsbury, etc. I am simply delighting in Jo's universe.Thanks for stopping by and I hope you stay along for the journey. SHaria





	1. A Chance Encounter

**Author's Note:**

> Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [HP Fandom](http://fanlore.org/wiki/HP_Fandom_\(archive\)), which was closed for health and financial reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [HP Fandom collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hpfandom/profile).

~~~~~SH~~~~~

"When Someone You Love Becomes A Memory, That Memory Becomes A Treasure"

Dedicated in loving memory to Aaron Karre

Steppenwolf

~~~~~SH~~~~~

1\. A Chance Encounter

 

The din from the celebration taking place in the Great Hall floated out the large oak doors and through hallways of the Castle. But up on the third floor, at the end of a long corridor, it was blessedly silent.

Severus Snape had made the mandatory appearance at the Leaving Feast and had now come to Professor Vector's office to leave a note regarding their planned tandem classes for the following school year. 

He finished his note and tossed the quill upon the desk, then leaned back in the old creaking, wooden chair and sighed as he reflected upon the school year that had just come to a close. 

What a year it had been, intolerably long and infinitely frustrating.

Snape thought about all that had taken place: the interference by the Ministry and how Dolores Umbridge had wracked havoc upon the lives of the students and the professors. 

The Fates had taken care of the matron toad, using the Centaurs as their tool of justice. That small victory was sweet and Severus indulged himself with a smirk of satisfaction, but his smile vanished as his thoughts moved onto the other individual who had been visited by the three ladies of destiny, Sirius Black. 

That death left Snape at odds. To some degree, Snape felt vindicated for a past injustice but at the same time he felt disquieted. For even though the cruel trick that Black had played on him, all those many years ago warranted justice, death seemed to be a rather heavy price to pay. 

Snape then considered the fiasco that had just transpired at the Ministry what with Potter racing off like a typical Gryffindor, all courage and no forethought. The mutt had done the same and both he and his godson, because of their foolish recklessness, had played right into the Dark Lord's hand. 

Potter always seemed to vex Snape, but the fact that the brat had witnessed this death left even the cold hearted potion master with a small bit of pity for the boy. 

His mind moved on to what was undoubtedly the most unbelievable event of all — the possession.

What must it have felt like to Potter? His connection to the Dark Lord, the insights gained and then to have survived intact. Of course, ‘intact’ could only be considered in relative terms; yet still, Snape was more than intrigued and perhaps even a bit envious. If so much enmity didn't exist between Potter and himself, he would have entertained the thought of asking the young wizard to describe his impressions and recollections of the event. 

The sudden intrusion of voices from the adjoining room disrupted Snape's musings. Immediately recognizing the participants in the conversation, he closed his eyes and drew a steadying breath. _Dear Merlin, not... him._

The door that separated the office from the classroom was ajar. For a moment, Snape pondered what to do: Close the door? Or stand and approach in order to get a better look?

He settled for staying seated at the desk — and listened. 

"Anyway — it doesn't matter — Sirius won't care if it's unusual, he'll come back, I know he will!” 

"He will not come back. He will have ... gone on." 

"What d'you mean, 'gone on'? Gone on where? Listen — what happens when you die, anyway? Where do you go? Why doesn't everyone come back? Why isn't this place full of ghosts? Why─ ?" 

"I cannot answer." 

"But you're dead, aren't you? Who can answer better than you?" 

"I was afraid of death," said Nick. "I chose to remain behind. I know nothing of the secrets of death, Harry, for I chose my feeble imitation of life instead. I believe learned wizards study the matter in the Department of Mysteries … " 

"Don't talk to me about that place!" 

"I am sorry not to have been more help. Well ... do excuse me ... the feast, you know ..." ** 

Snape closed his eyes and wished vehemently that he had not witnessed this conversation. The timbre of the dialog and the desperation in Potter's voice had disrupted the quiet placidity of his previous musings. Even so, the intensity between Potter and the ghost sparked Snape's curiosity, so he stood and moved silently toward the door to espy on young Potter. 

The unnerving sight that greeted him convinced Snape that he should have stayed seated at the desk.

The young wizard was standing motionless on the opposite side of the room, staring fixedly at the place in the wall through which Nick must have just disappeared. Potter’s devastation was displayed with blatant clarity by his expression. 

In a few moments, his entire frame began to shake as he succumbed to his grief. He sank to his knees and finally released his sorrow and anguish over the loss of Sirius. 

"Sirius,” he cried, “I'm so sorry! I never should have...” He choked on his tears. “It was all my fault that … " Harry's sobs were making it almost impossible for him to speak. 

He cried for the longest time. At one point, he reached out with his hand, trying to find support as he trembled with grief. The instant he made contact with the wall of the classroom, the castle began to shake. 

Snape was astounded at the sight of the phenomenon: that a mere touch from Harry's hand could actually cause Hogwarts to shake on its very foundation. But even more remarkable was the casual manner in which Harry simply withdrew his hand, putting an end to the shaking — as if it was an everyday occurrence. 

Harry continued his mournful lament for Sirius: apologizing, expressing all that they could have shared and lamenting the 'what ifs' and 'if only'. 

But eventually his crying eased. 

After what seemed like an eternity, Snape watched Harry as he stood, made his way to the classroom door and drew a fortifying breath. He valiantly wiped away the tears and assumed his typical determined look.

The classroom had been his only private place to mourn, to be just Harry who missed his Godfather terribly and berated himself for the horrible mistake he had made. 

But now he had to lay down his anguish, leave his humble sanctum and return to the school, return to being _the Boy-Who-Lived._

Wrenching open the door, Harry squared his shoulders and quickly departed the classroom. 

Snape opened the door fully and stared at the now empty classroom. 

This disturbing incident he’d just witnessed had left him feeling jostled — more so than he cared to acknowledge. 

He had always assumed that the smug expression Harry wore was one of defiance, but he had been wrong. It was a shield, a barrier of sorts, worn like a suit of armor to protect what was apparently a vulnerable and injured young man. 

What Snape had seen and heard in that classroom awoke within him memories and feelings from his own childhood — of something, someone that had been very dear to him. 

A shadow of a face drifted to the edge of his memories. "No!” he called out. “I will not think about these things!" 

Snape vehemently closed his eyes and cringed as he pushed the unwanted memories and awareness back down to that little dark corner of his soul where they had lived for years — safely buried. 

He had to take a few steadying breaths, but then he opened his eyes and walked out into the empty classroom.

He gazed at the spot where Harry and the ghost had stood. 

For all his years of spying, the conversation between this teenager and ghost had unsettled him, far more than any interaction he’d ever had with his fellow Death Eaters or even the Dark Lord himself. 

 

Author's notes:   
***Direct quote from pages 861-862 of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (American edition).


	2. Waning

  
Author's notes: Harry sinks into the miasma of depression.  


* * *

2\. Waning 

 

_Harry stood on the floor of the death chamber looking up at the dais; a thick silence permeated the room. As he moved hesitantly forward through the still suffocating air, his steps took him upward toward the stone archway; its veil fluttered gently despite the stillness. In front of the veil stood Sirius. His godfather watched as Harry made his way toward him. Coming face to face, the two men stood and silently gazed upon each other. Then Harry lifted his hand until it came to rest flat against Sirius's chest. The older man stared down at his godson's hand then he slowly looked up and with a questioning expression, Sirius stared into green eyes which were full of sadness and regret. Harry shook his head slightly as he leaned forward and pushed Sirius backward into the veil._

Harry awoke with a start and sat up abruptly. He was covered in a cold sweat and was panting. He shook with fear while trying to recover from his latest nightmare. 

It had been another miserable night; a miserable night that had followed yet another miserable day. And now, another miserable morning greeted him with the familiar pounding in his head and stinging of his scar. 

He had lost count by now: lost count of the days, the nights, the headaches and the nightmares. 

He lay back down and pulled the covers closely around him, trying to offset the cold that seemed to permeate every part of him and replayed the scene from his nightmare over and over again, watching as Nightmare Harry pushed Sirius into the veil — into death. 

Familiar tears began to slide down his cheeks and Harry's thoughts moved from the nightmare to his conversation with Nearly Headless Nick the night of the Leaving Feast, and then to his breakdown just after the ghost left the classroom. 

He remembered being overwhelmed with grief; its intensity had been so great that it took away all his strength and left him sobbing. It had taken some time, but he'd managed to rein in all those emotions and pushed them down deep ... where they needed to be, where they had to stay. 

Ever since that night, Harry had managed to keep the sobs under control. Yet despite all his determination, the irrepressible tears had taken on a life of their own. They would start up without warning, silently sliding down his cheeks, betraying his resolve. But if their presence was what it took for him to avoid the wrenching sobs, he'd take it. 

It was just after dawn and the house on Privet Drive was still quiet. Sick of lying there thinking of Sirius, sick of his head aching, sick of everything and everyone; Harry quietly dragged himself out of bed. He pulled on the clothes he had worn for — how many days now? It didn't matter. 

He padded downstairs to the kitchen; prepared breakfast for the Dursleys then was out the back door by the time they started to stir. 

This had become his routine since returning to Surrey that summer. 

His uncle, livid and agitated after the warning delivered to him at King's Cross, decreed that Harry was to "stay out of sight for the entire summer, or there would be hell to pay", and then proceeded to give him a taste of what that 'hell' would be. The bruises had not yet faded from his Uncle's demonstration. 

Of course, he was to complete his many chores, the "means for earning his keep". No matter how fast he worked, it was always afternoon before he could finish all that his Aunt had assigned him for the day, and by then his room was like an oven. 

So Harry would leave the house to wander during the heat of the day. He never wandered far, as he had to stay within the security wards; but at the end of each day he'd slip quietly back into the house late each evening and retire to his hot room. 

Harry sat in the garden shed, half-heartedly munching on a piece of toast while his _family_ finished breakfast. 

And as he ate, he sat and listened to the voice in his head, scolding him for getting friends injured and his godfather killed. Bit by bit, that incessant voice wore at Harry's spirit. The guilt robbed him of appetite, just as the wanderings and chores chipped away at his already slim frame. The sleepless nights, the headaches and the nightmares were also claiming their toll. 

The descent into the miasma of his depression was slow and specious. The days following the disaster at the Ministry and the Headmaster's revelation of the prophecy; Harry had been in shock, and those first few days in Surrey he had walked around in a daze. 

As he went through his daily routine of chores and walks, Harry had only his inner voice with which to process all that had happened: the loss of Sirius, his injured friends, Voldemort taking possession of him and being inside him, his mind and his very soul. 

Just thinking of that experience made him nauseated. But as horrible as that experience had been and as awful as was the prospect of never seeing his godfather again, there was one glaring truth that threatened to crush Harry; the fact that everything that had taken place had all happened because of his terrible mistake in judgment. 

It nearly killed him every time he thought of this fact, but he couldn't stop himself from doing it.

Over and over again, the voice in his head would chastise him. _It's your own stupid fault. You did this to him. You hurt your friends. You deserve to be alone and miserable._

It wasn't long before Harry completely agreed with this reprimanding voice, and he felt that this _place_ where his mind and body were, this state of misery somehow felt right — sad, but right. 

He was so miserable and depressed that at times he thought about ending everything. A couple of times he'd even gone to sit by the tracks and watch the commuter train barrel on by. 

_It would be so easy to step up onto the tracks just in front of the train._ But he knew he couldn't do it; not that he didn't want to, but because he had to live to defeat Voldemort.

_Maybe I'll get lucky and die at the same time Voldemort dies._ That convoluted thought was the only thing that brought a smile to his face these days. He held onto the idea that when and if he could bring down Voldemort, then hopefully his life would also end, justice would be served and he would join his Mother, Father and Sirius. 

Ron and Hermione sent their letters as promised, but his guilt about their near deaths precluded him from reaching out to them. Remus hadn't written and Harry believed that Remus probably held him responsible for what had happened to Sirius. 

Harry sent off his required letters every three days, always stating the same platitudes — that he was fine and such. He really didn't want any of them coming to check up on him. He was content living in his realm of isolation and sadness. He just knew that this was where he should be. 

~~~~~~ 

Returning to his dark, stifling hot bedroom late the Saturday night preceding his sixteenth birthday, Harry noticed an envelope lying upon his nightstand patiently waiting his attention. Picking up the missive, he tore back the flap, pulled out the letter and began to read. 

_Hey Harry,  
You know what today is? It's the last time you'll ever be fifeen years old on a Friday. We're all set for your big sixteenth birthday party. Four more days, I can hardly wait. Mum's going to bake the biggest cake, and Fred and George made some special fireworks (don't tell them I told you, it's supposed to be a surprise!) It's going to be a blast. Anyway, Dad will fetch you the night before your birthday. He says for you to make sure you're all packed and ready to go when he gets there. No worries mate, he knows not to use the Floo now. He's going to Apparate over, and then Side-Along you back here. Know what else, Harry? Dumbledore said you could stay here the rest of the summer! Isn't that great? We can fly everyday and throw gnomes at Ginny. We're gonna have so much fun.   
I can't wait to see you,   
Ron_

Harry stood frozen, just staring at the letter. No matter how long he looked at the writing, the words all remained the same, nothing changed. 

_What am I going to do?_ He’d completely forgotten about this planned party and he definitely didn't want to celebrate his birthday, knowing that Sirius would have no more. 

He decided then and there that he wouldn’t go; that he’d stay in Little Whinging, away from the Burrow and well away from the Weasleys. 

He sighed and walked over to the open window. Hedwig, who spent most her time outside because of the heat, had not yet returned from the night's hunting. Alone as usual, Harry was left with only his inner voice to process this latest dilemma. 

~~~~~~ 

Early the following morning, up in his bedroom at the Burrow, Ron was pulling on a pair of shorts when Hedwig swooped in through his open window. He nearly toppled over when she landed decidedly upon his shoulder. 

"Hedwig, you bloody bird; you almost gave me a heart-attack!" 

Not one to be deterred from her duty, let alone be chastised by this redhead, Hedwig responded by firmly shoving Harry's letter right under Ron's nose. 

"All right, all right already. You don't have to be so pushy." 

Relieved of her parcel, the snowy owl flew over to sit on the window sill and set her gaze to stare intently at Ron. 

"Look, I'm opening it already. See?" 

Satisfied, Hedwig hooted her farewell and took off without any further delay. If there had been any possibility of success, she would have grabbed hold of Ron's hair and brought him with her. She was so worried about her Harry. The best she could do was to get back as soon as possible, and keep an eye on him. 

"That bloody bird is insane," Ron muttered to himself as he tore open the envelope and pulled out Harry's letter. 

_Hi there Ron,_  
Say, thanks for the invitation but I've got a bugger of a cold. I’ve had it for weeks. You lot don’t want to catch this, so I think I’ll just stay here until it’s time for school to start. Don’t worry about me. Aunt Petunia’s been great. I’m just going to rest up until September 1st. See you at King’s Cross.

_Harry_

Ron stared dumbfounded at the letter trying to make some sense out of it. Harry? Not want to celebrate his birthday for once in his life? Not want to come to the Burrow for the rest of the summer? His aunt being nice? 

This letter didn’t make any sense, not one bloody bit.

Ron jumped into action, raced out of his room and headed for the kitchen. 

Bounding down the stairs and sounding like a herd of stampeding Hippogriffs, he made it to the kitchen in two shakes time. He knew that his dad had been called into work this Saturday and Ron wanted to be sure to catch him before he left. 

"Oi Dad, hold up!" 

"Ronald Weasley!" bellowed his mother. "How many times have I told you not to run through the house!" 

"Sorry Mum, but I had to catch Dad before he left." Turning, Ron held out the letter. "Dad, look at this. Go on, read it!" 

Arthur took the proffered letter and sat down. With Molly peering over his shoulder, they both read Harry's letter. "Molly, what do you think about this?" 

"He's lying, or trying to hide something." She took the letter from Arthur and scanned it again. "I don't like it Arthur. Harry would never not want to come here. And his aunt … I ask you, when has that woman ever shown him an ounce of kindness?” She sat down next to him. "I think you'd better go and check on him. Something is wrong ... I just feel it." 

"But I was supposed to go into work today." 

"Arthur, this is Harry we're talking about. The Ministry can wait." 

Arthur toyed with his lower lip while thinking things over. "You're right, of course. I'll just Floo-call Perkins and tell him I can't make it in today. Then I'll check with Albus to make certain it's all right for me to go check on Harry." 

After Arthur called Perkins, he then Floo-called the Headmaster and everyone in the kitchen listened on with anticipation as Dumbledore answered. 

"Albus, I apologize for disturbing you so early, but may I pop over and have a word with you?" 

"Of course Arthur. Is everything all right?" 

"Well, yes and no. We are all fine here. It's Harry, we're worried about him." 

There was a long silent pause. "What's wrong?" 

"I'll show you when I get there. May I come through? 

"Of course Arthur, come right through." 

~~~~~ 

Albus Dumbledore stood expectantly beside his desk. When Arthur Floo'd in he immediately asked, "So what is all this about Harry? Last we spoke, you were to fetch him the night before his birthday." 

Reaching into the pocket of his robe, Arthur removed Harry's letter and held it out towards Dumbledore. "This is the reason Albus. It's a letter from Harry. Ron had written him a letter referring to the upcoming party and Harry coming to stay at the Burrow. This was his response." 

Dumbledore read Harry's words declining the invitation. "Well, certainly this is odd. He hasn't mentioned in any of his letters that he was ill. Additionally, the reports from the Aurors guarding his neighborhood haven't noted that anything was amiss. Has he made reference to illness in any of his previous missives to your family?" 

"No, he hasn't. All he ever says is that he's fine. That's about it." 

Dumbledore sighed. "Curious." 

"Yes it is. Albus, I... Well we... That is to say Molly, the children and I think something must be wrong. Harry has never not wanted to come to the Burrow; so I was wondering if I could go check on him today, perhaps I could even bring him back with me to the Burrow? It's only a few days earlier then we had originally planned." 

"I suppose it would be all right,” he mused then nodded decidedly. “Yes Arthur, of course. Perhaps Madame Pomfrey should accompany you." 

"Oh, no. I honestly don't believe Harry is actually ill. I think it best if I just go alone and talk to him, if he'll oblige me." 

"Very well, but please update me with your findings." 

"I will Albus, of course" 

~~~~~ 

It was about mid-morning now, and the stifling summer heat was already making its presence known. Arthur Apparated to the perimeter of the wards, covertly acknowledged the Auror stationed at this particular spot, then proceeded toward Privet Drive and eventually made his way to number four. When he finally arrived at the front door, he looked around for what should be the door bell. 

Mortified over the fiasco that had transpired when he had come to fetch Harry for the Quidditch finals, Arthur vehemently addressed his rusty knowledge of Muggle studies to assure nothing of the sort ever occurred in the future. Recalling the diagram from his Muggle Studies book, Arthur spotted a round button beside the door. 

_That must be the doorbell,_ he thought and with a giddy sense of anticipation, Arthur pushed on the round button in question. Low and behold, a chime could be heard from within the house. His eyes grew wide with wonder. "It worked!" 

Now for the next part. Thinking that this would be infinitely more challenging than the doorbell, Arthur waited for Harry or one of his relatives to open the door, but nothing happened. Mildly perplexed yet still determined, he decided to try again. Sure enough, when he pushed the button, the chime sounded once more inside the house but still, no one came to the door. 

There was however an odd sound emanating from the rear of the house, so he decided to walk along the side path which led toward the rear of the property. Reaching its end, Arthur came to an abrupt halt as he took in the unbelievable sight before him. 

There was Harry. He was pushing some sort of contraption along the grass, presently heading in the direction opposite from where Arthur stood. If it hadn't been for what else greeted his eyes, Arthur would have been giddy with curiosity for the odd device. But sadly, Harry had taken off his shirt, no doubt because of the heat, and quite visible was the fact that Harry had lost a significant amount of weight. Indeed, if Arthur had wanted, he could have easily counted every one of Harry's ribs. 

Reaching the end of the grass, Harry turned the lawn mower around to make his next pass. About halfway across the yard, he glanced up and froze. 

For a few moments, both Harry and Arthur just stood and stared at each other. Then, ever so slowly, Arthur walked toward Harry. As his approach brought him closer to the young man, he could now easily see every blatant, protruding rib, and what appeared to be an assortment of both fresh and fading bruises. 

"Mr. Weasley! What...What are you doing here?" Harry could barely get the words out for shock and embarrassment. 

Standing directly in front of the teenager, Arthur took in the dark circles under Harry's eyes, and it was quite apparent that he had recently been crying. Obviously, all was not well with Harry Potter. 

Arthur's chest tightened as a wave of guilt washed over him. He should have listened to Ron and Ginny when they insisted that Harry come to them earlier that month. Just as his children had foreseen, Harry was not coping well with the loss of Sirius. 

The lack of response prompted Harry to repeat his inquiry. "Mr. Weasley?" 

"Harry, is there anyplace where you and I could talk? Just talk for a bit?" 

Talking to Mr. Weasley was definitely something Harry did not want to do. "Um ... I don't know if that's such a good idea Mr. Weasley. I really need to finish my chores, and ..." 

"Why don't you let me worry about that, all right? Arthur placed a gentle hand on the teenager’s bony shoulder. “Harry please, can’t we just talk?”

The arrival of Mr. Weasley was so unexpected; Harry was caught completely off guard. He had to think of some sort of excuse, fast. "I really don't have time. Perhaps if you came later and ..." 

Arthur interrupted again. "Harry, I'm not going to leave, not until you and I have a talk." 

Harry's resolve was weakening. This was simply too much. As long as no one showed him any sort of affection, affection that he wholeheartedly believed he did not deserve, as long as he was isolated in this way, he could handle his despair. This kindness being offered by Mr. Weasley upset Harry's delicate balance of reason and emotion. 

Not able to look the older man in the eyes, Harry looked down at his keds and tried again. "Mr. Weasley, can't you just... Just go ... please?" 

"No, I'm sorry. I am not leaving until we talk." Thinking that perhaps an indirect approach might work better than this stand-off, Arthur offered a diversion. "Tell me. Exactly what chores do you need to finish? The lawn? Yes, yes of course." 

Pulling out his wand, Arthur performed a simple charm to finish the cutting of the lawn. "There, that's done. Now, what else is on your agenda for the day?" 

"Um ... I'm supposed to wash the outside of all the windows." 

Another wave of the wand with a spoken charm and all the windows were clean, outside and inside. "And?" 

"Nothing. That was it." 

"Good. Now, where can we go and talk?" 

Exasperated by Mr. Weasley's persistence, Harry simply sighed then went to turn the lawnmower around. "I need to put this away first." 

"Splendid! Where do you store this magnificent contraption when it is not in use?" 

Harry was taken aback. "What are you talking about? What..." Comprehension dawning, "Oh, you mean the lawn mower?" 

"Is that what it is called?" Fascinating!" 

Harry shook his head and pushed the lawnmower back into the garden shed. When he turned around, he was greeted by the sight of Arthur Weasley sitting on a half barrel next to the doorway.

Despite the smile and kind expression upon Mr. Weasley's face, he might as well have been Aragog guarding Harry's exit from the cave of Acromantulas. After a moment of quiet desperation, Harry surrendered and sagged down upon a nearby stack of bagged fertilizer. 

"Now Harry, what is all this nonsense about having a cold and not coming to the Burrow?" 

How in Merlin's name could Harry verbalize all the thoughts spinning around in his head: that he didn't want to place any of the Weasleys in more danger, that he was ashamed with himself and regretted all the havoc he had caused everyone already, that he was worthless and didn't deserve to be loved, that…

“Harry?”

Startled from his personal diatribe, Harry decided it would be impossible to convey all this misery he was carrying around; so instead, he settled for something short and direct. “Mr. Weasley, I just think it would be better if I stayed here.”

“Better for who? Certainly not us, we all miss you and want you to come stay with us. So you must be speaking of yourself. Why would it be better for you to stay here?”

Unfortunately, Harry’s scar chose that exact moment to jab him with a particularly burning sting. Grimacing, he started to rub his scar. 

Mr. Weasley moved to his side instantly. “Harry, you’re in pain. What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing Mr. Weasley; just my stupid scar.” Resting his forehead in the palm of his hand, Harry stared at the ground and decided to try and explain. 

“Look Mr. Weasley, I feel really bad about what happened to Ron and Ginny. So many people were hurt because of me; I just feel like I should stay away, before anyone else gets hurt or d…” The remainder of his sentence caught in his throat, and all that he could manage to do was bury his face in his hands.

Harry’s words and actions confirmed Arthur’s suspicions. Without preamble, Arthur wrapped Harry up in a strong embrace. 

Hobbled by his guilt, Harry found it difficult to accept this offering of love. He tried to pull away, but Mr. Weasley wouldn’t let go. “Please don’t. I…”

Holding on with determination, Arthur cut off Harry’s plea. “Harry, I know you are upset, but cutting yourself off from everyone that loves you is wrong. We were wrong to leave you here alone after everything that happened. We love you son, and we are worried for you. We all want you to come home. Please, come with me to the Burrow.”

As Arthur spoke, Harry’s resolve to hold back his tears broke and he released the grief he had held within for so long. Arthur continued to hold onto the young man as he cried, occasionally whispering words of support. Eventually, when Harry had cried himself out, Arthur pulled back just far enough to look upon the tear stained face.

“Now you listen to me Harry James Potter; I refuse to leave you here. You and I are going to pack your things, and you are coming with me to the Burrow today. That is final!”

It took a few minutes for Harry to dry his tears and pull himself together. After he calmed down, they headed toward the house to collect his things. 

“Let’s see,” began Arthur, “first we’ll pack your belongings and then…”

Harry interrupted, “Mr. Weasley, I… Well I really don’t have anything to pack. You see, my uncle…” Embarrassed, Harry looked down. “My uncle locked my trunk away when I got here. Everything I own is in it, except for Hedwig. Her cage is in my room.”

Arthur may have been meager in funds, but he was bountiful with discernment. Realizing the magnitude and implications packed within that one humble sentence, Arthur asked with infinite gentleness, the whereabouts of the trunk.

This was all so mortifying, but Harry couldn’t see that he had any choice in the matter. “I’ll show you, but we need to hurry.”

"Why?" 

"I'll tell you later. Okay? Let's just get my stuff and go." 

Entering the house, Harry led Arthur to the locked cupboard under the stairs. "It's in there." 

Arthur stared at the small door, then to Harry and then back to the cupboard door. "Ron mentioned something about your room being a cupboard under the stairs, I always assumed it to be a sort of storage room." 

"No, this is it. Can we please just hurry?" 

Arthur pointed his wand at the cupboard door. "Alohamora.” The door opened and the redhead leaned forward to look inside the tiny area. Deciding it best not to say anything just then, he shrunk Harry's trunk and placed it in his pocket. 

"All right Harry, let's go get Hedwig." 

As the Weasley patriarch followed Harry up the stairs and then watched as the troubled young man called his owl to him from a nearby tree, questions began racking in his brain: Harry being kept in that tiny hole in the wall? The stifling hot bedroom? The weight loss and bruises? No one helping the young man to deal with his grief? How could Albus have allowed this to go on? 

"Okay Mr. Weasley. She's on her way to the Burrow. If you could just shrink her cage, we can go. I don't have anything else." 

That being done, the two wizards headed toward the stairway, but sounds from below caused Harry to stop in his tracks and cringe. "Oh, no." He muttered under his breath. 

Arriving back from their trip to the grocers, the Dursleys entered through the front door but stopped when they saw Harry. 

"Boy? What are you doing inside? You know you're not allowed...." Just then, Vernon Dursley spotted Arthur standing behind his nephew. "What are you doing here? I will not have freaks in my home. One is bad enough!" 

Harry's uncle marched up the stairs to continue his verbal attack, while Petunia stood with her mouth agape, by the doorway. Dudley headed toward the kitchen for cover. 

"Uncle Vernon, please! We were just leaving! Mr. Weasley is taking me ..." 

"I did not give you permission to speak to me, Boy!" 

"Now see here Dursley," interjected Arthur. “Don't you think you're being a bit harsh?" 

The dressing down at King's Cross still fresh in his mind, Dursley countered with a vengeance. "I will not be told what to think, or how to speak in my own home!" 

With all of the shouting taking place, and his purple-faced uncle getting closer and closer; Harry began to panic. As he did, his magic started to swirl and the windows began to crack, the sounds of which could be heard all throughout the house. 

Turning, Vernon Dursley watched as window after window cracked before his eyes. His already inflated form grew even larger, now with ire.

"What have you done? You ... freak!" Irate, he moved to shove his nephew, but inadvertently pushed with much more force than intended and Harry was sent flying headfirst down the flight of stairs. 

Petunia Dursley's shrill scream pierced the air as she watched her nephew's head slam into the wall at the base of the stairs. 

 

~~~~~~


	3. Retrospect

  
Author's notes: Realization brings about change.  


* * *

3\. Retrospect

Snape’s footsteps echoed off the stone walls as he made his way up the empty stairwell. 

Only two days prior, he'd been surrounded by his cherished roses and the beautiful countryside of the Alta Marema, Now after what was an all too brief vacation, he was back within the cold stone walls of the castle and as he trudged up the stairs, Snape thought how these echoes mirrored his swirling memories of his life in Tuscany.

He had barely settled in when Madame Pomfrey suggested that they meet in order to review the supply levels for the necessary potions in the infirmary. With the start of the new school term barely one month away, she was anxious to begin her preparations.

As he neared the hospital wing, he could sense that something was amiss. The castle was nearly empty so any activity was unexpected. But when he entered the infirmary, he saw a scene of focused endeavors and distressed voices. 

_Dear Merlin, now what?_ He'd barely taken in the scene of Poppy fervently working on someone, when a voice called out to him from the Mediwitch's office. 

"Severus, what fortuitous timing.” The Headmaster beckoned to him from the doorway to Poppy’s office. “Please, your services are greatly needed." 

Snape walked over and saw an obviously distressed Arthur Weasley speaking to his wife through the Floo; his panicked voice filled the background. 

Up went an eyebrow as Snape looked to Dumbledore for an explanation.

"An altercation took place today at the Dursley's," Albus explained.

"Potter's relatives?"

"Yes. During the excitement, Harry was injured and Arthur inadvertently …” Dumbledore shrugged uncharacteristically … "… hexed them." 

The second eyebrow elevated to join the first, this time in shock. "Arthur Weasley? Hexed a family of Muggles?" If the situation hadn't been so delicate, Snape would have found it laughable. 

"Severus, please. Arthur is distraught, not to mention the possible ramifications with the Ministry. We need your help. Please go to the Dursley's and … well, take care of things as quickly as possible." 

Both eyebrows quickly returned to their former position and the blank expression, honed to perfection, schooled itself upon the potion master's face. "Of course Albus, whatever you require. To be certain I understand your request, you wish for me to enter the home of Mr. Potter's relatives, release them of the current spells cast upon them by Arthur and then, I would assume, Obliviate them." 

The blue eyes held no twinkle this day. "Yes." 

Snape kept his personal reaction to this request veiled behind his mask of indifference. "Very well, I will take care of matters."

As Snape moved to exit the office, Arthur stepped quickly to intercede. "Severus, thank you so much for doing this. I don't know what came over me. Everything happened so quickly, I..." 

Having heard enough, the seasoned operative interrupted Mr. Weasley's unsought explanation. "There is no need for you to vindicate yourself to me, Arthur. Now if you will, I believe haste is paramount." 

"You're right Severus, of course. But, please accept my gratitude." 

Snape offered a slight bow of the head in acknowledgement, then turned and left the office. 

_No doubt this is some form of penance for past sins,_ Snape thought as he marched toward the Headmaster's office barely able to contain his annoyance. Not only was he still unsettled over having just left his home only to return to the dungeons of Hogwarts, he now had to race off and deal with an exceedingly unpleasant task involving Potter's relatives. It was bad enough that he had to tolerate the imp in his classroom, but now this! Having to enter the house of the pampered little prince, contend with his hero-worshiping family, all because of Arthur's overblown reaction to what was no doubt, some triviality. 

~~SH~~

Snape floo’d from Dumbledore's office to Arabela Figg's home in Little Whinging and barely acknowledged the Squib as he headed toward her front door. 

"Professor Snape, how is Harry?"

Surprised at the question, Snape turned toward the old squib. Truth be told, it hadn't even occurred to him to inquire about Potter's injuries. "I am quite certain Madame Pomfrey has matters well in hand." 

"Oh, of course Professor," cowered the old Squib, intimidated by his mere presence and curt retort. 

Wishing to complete his assigned burden as quickly as possible, Snape offered Mrs. Figg a brief nod, cast a Disillusionment Charm upon himself and exited the house. 

~~SH~~

He crossed Privet Drive and as he neared the house, he noticed that most of the windows had cracks running throughout the glass. With his wand at the ready, Snape quietly slipped into the house via the back door. 

What greeted him was the sight of a rather large young Muggle, lying on the kitchen floor. Weasley had obviously used a sticking charm to adhere the youth to the tiles. Completely engulfing the boy's face was an enormous Bat Bogey. Assessing that this Muggle was in no immediate danger, he left the young man in his odd predicament and continued his survey of the house. 

He left the kitchen and entered a hallway. Lying on the floor at the opposite end was no doubt Petunia Dursley, apparently suffering from the same hexes as the young man in the kitchen. 

As Snape moved down the hallway, the sight of a small cupboard door caught his eye. He paused and looked at it. 

He had seen this door before, but where? He stood unmoving and simply stared at it, then after a few moments he grasped the small handle and yanked it open. 

Alien memories, previously banished to the outskirts of his mind surfaced now with a vengeance, overwhelming feelings of isolation and fear, want and need. 

"Arrrgh," Snape growled as these feelings and memories, Potter's memories, threatened to overwhelm him.

He slammed the door shut and forced the invasive emotions from him. He now recalled where it was he’d seen that small dark space - Potter’s Occlumency lessons. 

Snape had assumed them to be no more than remnants from a bad dream; apparently these were not merely dream images but were indeed memories of actual occurrences. This cupboard under the stairs was real, and Severus Snape now realized with unwanted clarity, the tremendous emotional trauma it held for Harry Potter. 

He backed away and turned to face Petunia Dursley and then, with a wave of his wand, he released the Disillusionment Charm.

 

Petunia, who had seen the cupboard door open and close, apparently of its own accord, now panicked at the sudden appearance of Snape. Even though she recognized him as a childhood friend of Lily's, the dark look upon his face threatened to scare the very life from her. 

 

Snape slowly walked toward her and watched her panicked eyes staring at him from around the perimeter of the bat sized bogey. Her body, as was the case of her son, was also stuck to the floor, and the bogey covering the majority of her face, prevented communication. 

 

He stood in silence and stared down at this woman, Lily's sister, and wondered what in Merlin's name had been going on in this house. 

 

What had he just experienced over there by the small cupboard? The images and emotions he saw and felt made absolutely no sense to him. Potter was a pampered brat, not an abused waif. 

 

Snape shook his head in an attempt to clear away the questioning voice. This wasn't why he'd come to this despicable house. Besides, why should he even concern himself? He cared nothing for Potter. Yet, he was intrigued. His curiosity grew and prodded him on until he reached the point where he simply had to know.

 

Snape hesitated, but then pointed his wand squarely at the woman. _“Legilimens”_

He felt her hatred, disgust and the jealousy, witnessed the years of favoritism and intentional neglect. On and on the impressions and feelings flew at him, memories of what were in her opinion, years of injustice. Snape realized that to this woman and her family, Harry was unwanted; he was nothing more than an imposition and an enormous source of annoyance. 

"Finite." 

The tall wizard stood stock still. Beyond shocked, he was flabbergasted at the realization that Lily's sister loathed her nephew. Of course Potter was a nuisance, but to treat a small child in such a manner? It was incomprehensible. He didn’t have time just then to process all he had learned, nor was this the place to contemplate such a disturbing revelation, so he steeled himself to return to his task and continue the survey of the house.

But when he turned to face the staircase, Snape gasped. There, splattered upon the wall at the base of the stairs was what could only be Potter's blood. "Dear Merlin," he muttered. _No wonder the squib inquired as to Potter's welfare._

He moved past the blood splattered wall, Severus ascended the staircase. There on the top landing, lay the massive form of Potter's uncle, also stuck to the floor with an equally massive Bogey covering his face. 

Now with all the family members accounted for, Snape proceeded to survey the remainder of the upstairs. His search was uneventful until he reached the last door. Here again was another door that beckoned its story to be told.

He opened the lock ridden, animal flap enhanced door and stepped into a stifling hot, dreary little bedroom. He noted in the small cot-like bed, the broken furniture and remnants of metal bars at the window. The only statement of individuality was the small Gryffindor banner and a hand drawn pencil rendition — of a Snowy Owl. 

 

Snape allowed himself only a few moments of stunned realization, a brief acknowledgement of regret and shame. 

 

He made short work of rectifying the evidence of Arthur Weasley's anger: Severus removed the hexes, Stunned and Obliviated Potter's relatives, then levitated the uncle to an upstairs bed, the aunt to the living-room couch and the youth to a kitchen chair so that when they awoke, each would think they had merely dozed off. 

Finally, Snape moved to the base of the staircase. 

"Evanesco" Potter’s blood disappeared from the wall. 

"Reparo" All the cracked windows were magically repaired. 

His task complete, Severus sighed and then departed number four Privet Drive. 

~~SH~~

As midnight approached, Dumbledore paced anxiously in his office waiting for Snape's return. Finally, the flames flared green and the younger wizard stepped from the Floo. 

The two men stood and stared at each other, not knowing what to say or where to begin. It had been a long and trying day. Both were exhausted, their minds full of thoughts that needed to be processed and questions that needed answers. 

It was Snape who broke the silence. "The situation with the Dursleys has been rectified. They will remember nothing of what occurred this day with regards to Potter ... or Arthur." 

Dumbledore breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you Severus. Please, sit down and relax. You look as if you could use a drink. I know I do." 

Dumbledore walked over to a small side table and reached for the crystal decanter that housed a very old, very strong yet infinitely smooth Cognac. He poured the precious liquid into two large snifters then went to join Snape who was now seated in front of the large fireplace. 

They sat for a long while in silence, sipping their drinks, allowing the Cognac to ease their frazzled nerves and numb their cold self-disgust. 

Staring at the snifter held in his hand, Severus watched the prisms of light from the fire dance between the cut edges of the crystal. "Albus, to what degree are you aware of Potter's living conditions?" 

The old wizard stared into his own glass and let out a deep sigh. "Apparently, not enough. That fact was made blatantly clear to me today." 

Snape lifted his gaze and pinned his old mentor with a pertinacious stare. How could someone he had always admired, someone he had sacrificed a vast portion of his life in order to serve, someone he respected more than any other person known to him — how in the world could Albus Dumbledore have been so negligent with regards to Potter? Snape wanted answers, and he would wait all night for Dumbledore to provide them. “You discovered this fact … only today?”

Dumbledore nodded and told Snape about Vernon's assault upon Harry, the revelations of hatred, the prejudice and abuse, then of Arthur's instinctive response to the attack. "How could I have erred so greatly?"

"How were you to know Albus? Abuse can be well hidden." 

The old wizard continued, as if not hearing Snape's comment. "From their perspective, my operatives had no idea what was transpiring within the walls of that house and Harry never alluded to any injustice or abuse. Never …," his voice trailed off in a whisper. 

Albus finally lifted his gaze to meet that of Snape's. "I have failed that young man. I realize that now... and I fully admit to that fact. Also, based upon Arthur's accounting of a discussion he had with Harry before the fray, and his physical state, Harry is terribly depressed over the death of Sirius. Again, he never alluded to any distress in his letters to me. I believed that he was coping adequately, and so my transgression continues." 

"What do you mean — his physical state?"

Dumbledore relayed the fact that Harry had lost a great deal of weight in just one month, that his blood pressure was dangerously high due to stress, that there was evidence of physical abuse and, according to Madame Pomfrey, Harry was exhibiting the classic signs of severe depression. 

Snape voiced all he had seen earlier that evening. Added to what Dumbledore had just conveyed, feelings of guilt and shame for his obvious misconceptions about Harry took hold of him, and the longer he thought on the matter, the more damning each detail of his personal transgression came to light. 

"Severus?" The gentle calling of his name, snapped Snape from his musings. 

"You aren't the only one with transgressions to face tonight, Albus," Snape responded, his disappointment evident in the tone of his voice. "I realized today just how mistaken..." he paused momentarily, looking towards the warm flames of the fire.” I realized how very wrong I have been about ... Harry."

Dumbledore closed his eyes, and sighed. "I am so relieved that you are finally able to see the truth about him. He isn't James. In fact, as I have had the opportunity to get to know Harry, I often think that you and he are quite alike, different in some regards, but essentially alike." 

Severus smirked at the comparison. 

"You called him Harry."   
"I what?" 

"You called him Harry. I've never heard you use his first name Severus, not until tonight." 

Severus set down his now empty crystal goblet. "I believe that until now, I have never truly considered Harry as an individual. I’ve always viewed him as..." He thought for a moment, "I suppose I viewed him as a sort of allegorical figurehead. To me personally, he always represented his father. He was a target where I could channel the resentment I obviously still harbor, and perhaps I ..." 

Dumbledore waited a moment. "What?" he said softly. 

Severus looked down at his hands, as he fiddled with the signature ring he still wore. "Perhaps I was a bit ... envious, jaundiced, because of his ease with people, his distinction and import."

Knowing how difficult it was for Severus to have admitted these things to himself, let alone give them voice, Dumbledore leaned foreword and reached a hand toward his long time protégé. "Severus, we all have our strengths and our weaknesses. Please, do not judge yourself harshly. You have the opportunity now to rectify the past." 

Severus felt totally drained. "If I do Albus, then so do you." 

The two wizards shared a long and knowing look. With regards to Harry, they both felt a weighty guilt and a need to make amends.

Severus rose wearily from the chair and crossed the room but paused before opening the door. “I observed evidence of unintentional magic at the Dursley’s house." 

"Yes, Arthur relayed to me what happened. I assume you are referring to the windows?" 

"Yes. It was Harry, no doubt?" 

Albus nodded. "Arthur stated that as Harry's uncle ascended the staircase, the poor boy became highly distressed and that for a moment or two, some sort of electrical charge could be felt. Then suddenly all of the windows started to crack." 

"You should know that I also witnessed a similar occurrence." 

Dumbledore perked with curiosity. "You did? When?" 

"It happened the last day of term, during the Leaving Feast." Severus sighed as he recounted the unfortunate event. "It was a private moment for Harry. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He was quite distressed over the death of Black and when he momentarily placed his hand against the wall, the castle shook. He immediately withdrew his hand and the shaking stopped." 

Albus gasped. "I remember that. It lasted only a brief moment, but all of us in the Great Hall felt it."

Severus waited in silence as Dumbledore pondered the magnitude of this news. 

"It would seem that Harry and I are overdue for a little talk." 

"So it would seem Albus, so it would seem." 

~~SH~~

Severus slowly made his way down from the Headmaster's tower. He arrived at the second level and began to follow the turn in the stairs to continue his descent, but paused. 

 

It was only a few steps to his right and to stop by would be a small gesture, a simple show of support; why was he hesitant? 

 

"This is preposterous." Annoyed at himself, Severus turned and walked determinately towards the infirmary, opened the door but then stopped. 

 

It was if time had suddenly softened and slowed its pace. The opalescent moonlight drifting in through the numerous windows, hung suspended within the darkened shroud of the ward.

Severus slowly walked foreword: each step bringing him closer to the solitary figure lying still as a corpse upon the bed. The only movement from Harry's body was the steady, shallow rise and fall of his chest. 

Plied with potions, Harry had been drugged into a dreamless sleep. But even if he had been awake, he would have barely heard the soft whisper issued by the contrite man before him.

"I am sorry Harry." 

 

Drained and exhausted, feeling as though he were himself about to collapse, Severus turned slowly to leave and his hand inadvertently brushed atop that of Harry's. To his surprise, the fingers of the smaller hand closed ever so slightly upon his own. 

Startled, Severus looked upon this tenuous connection. Why he didn't immediately withdraw his hand he couldn’t say. Physical contact was something Severus Snape neither gave nor received easily. 

He looked from their hands back towards Harry's face; Severus could see that the young man was sound asleep, so how could this have happened? 

His normal response would have been to withdraw, but for some reason he didn't. Instead, Severus slowly lowered himself to sit on the edge of the bed. He sat there and looked upon Harry for what seemed to be the first time. ‘The Boy Who Lived’ was a figurehead to the Wizarding World, but the beaten young man before him now was just that — a beaten young man.

This was Harry; not a reincarnation of his father but a person in his own right: a too thin individual with sunken cheeks, a head wrapped in gauze and bruises about his face. 

Severus hadn't thought he could feel any worse, but he did. It would take a long time for him to come to terms with the role he had played in all the injustice. Beyond that, he would someday need to apologize to a Harry Potter that was conscious and could very easily tell Severus to go straight to hell. 

Would Harry ever be able to forgive him? Perhaps not but even so, Severus was determined to stand by his declaration to make amends to this young wizard, and he would do so starting now. 

 

He would sit patiently here by Harry's side. Even though he was unconscious, if Harry needed to hold onto someone, Severus decided that he would stay and allow the contact. 

 

This day seemed to have lasted an eternity, but it was only a prelude of what lay ahead ... for Harry and Severus. 

~~SH~~ 

Reviews welcome-


	4. Detached

  
Author's notes: All rights belong to JKR and the gang.  


* * *

4\. Detached 

_A rustling sound woke Harry; he opened his eyes and to his amazement, he saw his Godfather sitting there next to him._

_“Sirius, what are you doing here? I thought you were dead. Aren't you dead?”_

_“Who, me? Merlin no. I just stepped out of the room for a minute.”_

_Relief flooded through Harry. “I'm so glad to see you. I thought I killed you.”_

_Sirius let out a roaring laugh. “That's the funniest thing I've heard all day. I think you've been doing too much homework lately.”_

Another noise startled Harry from his dream, and this time he really did open his eyes. Indeed there was someone sitting next to him, but it was Ron, not Sirius. 

"Do you know?" asked Ron. 

"What?" Harry responded groggily. 

"It starts with the letter P." 

Harry squeezed his eyelids tightly, trying to focus. "What are you talking about?"

"I asked if you knew the name of that chap. You know… the one who invented Quadpot?"

"Oh." Harry felt completely disorientated. "Um, I don't know. Something like... Peasegood? Maybe?"

"That's it! Brilliant! I'm almost done now. Just two more down and three more across." 

It was Saturday morning and Ron's turn to sit with Harry. Since Harry spent half his time sleeping, Ron had decided to bring along the latest issue of Quidditch Weekly and an extra long Sugar Quill to help pass away the hours. He was currently working on the crossword puzzle. 

"Ron?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Where's Sirius? He was here just a minute ago." 

Ron lowered the magazine to look at his friend. This wasn't the first time Harry had dreamt of Sirius during the past week. Everyone who’d sat with Harry had experienced some version of what just occurred. 

"Come on mate, you were just having one of those dreams again. Remember? You remember what happened back in June, right?" 

Harry closed his eyes and lifted a hand to his aching head. "Oh, yeah ... sorry." 

"Uh, don’t worry about it. It's just that stupid draught you have to take; it makes you all loopy."

 

Harry didn't bother to respond. He just lay there gently rubbing the spot on his head where the laceration had been. Even though Madame Pomfrey had healed the wound, the area still felt numb yet tingly, all at the same time. She said it was because of some damage to the nerves in the area and that it would go away eventually; but still, it was an odd feeling. 

"Hey mate, you hungry? You want some soup or something?" 

Harry shook his head, no. Even though it had been a slight movement, he instantly regretted the attempt as the muscles and tendons in his neck were still quite tender. 

Dobby suddenly appeared on Harry's bed, carrying a tray of food.

"Dobby! We were just talking about getting some food," exclaimed Ron. 

The little elf turned to look at Ron with an odd expression. "Dobby is knowing this, Harry's Wheezy. For Dobby is many times checking on his Harry Potter." 

"You do?" managed Harry. 

Dobby nodded and walked up the length of the bed to place the tray on Harry's lap. "Dobby is very fast and very quiet and Dobby is making it so that he is not seen, if that is what Dobby wishes." 

Ron had already grabbed one of the Roast Beef Sandwiches and replied with his mouth full of food. "I diddin know dat. Can all duh elves do dat?"

Dobby nodded his head and stared at Harry. "Harry Potter is not eating his food." 

He was just staring at the tray on his lap, picking away at the crust on one of the sandwiches. "I'm just not very hungry." 

Dobby sat down and touched Harry on the shoulder. "Please Harry Potter, please eat something for Dobby. Dobby is making Harry Potter some of his I'osi's special broth. Will Harry Potter please try some?" 

Harry looked confusedly at Dobby. "Who is I'osi?" 

The little elf smiled at his favorite wizard and shook his head. "Harry Potter, I'osi is not being a name; it is being a thing. I'osi is meaning grandmother, and Dobby's grandmother is being named Widgen." 

"Oh." 

"Please Harry Potter, try some of I'osi's broth." 

"Okay." He reached for the cup of broth. Harry was having a hard time managing such maneuvers these days. The torn retina was affecting the vision of his left eye, making it distorted and impairing his depth perception. 

He took a couple of small sips and then set the cup back down on the tray. Ron had already finished his own sandwich and started in on one half of Harry's. 

"Harry Potter is not liking I'osi's broth?" 

"No, it's good. Thanks for making it."

Dobby’s ears drooped as he looked at his friend with concern. The little elf was at a loss and didn't know what he could do to help his Harry Potter feel better. 

~~~SH~~~ 

When Harry had sufficiently recovered, Madame Pomfrey released him to the care of Arthur and Molly. The still mending skull fracture, concussion and torn retina caused Harry to experience bouts of dizziness, which left everyone far too concerned for his safety to let him attempt the stairs. So Molly and Ginny had cleared out the sewing room on the first floor and set it up as a bedroom for Harry to use during his convalescence.

It was now well into the first week of August. The heat of summer lay heavy upon Ottery St. Catchpole. The garden at the Burrow had soaked up the warmth and was now bursting with blossoms of Roses, Clematis and Peonies, their flowers lacing the still air with heady scents. 

The expanse of grass surrounding the home and stretching out to the orchard welcomed anyone who wished to lie upon its coolness, but because Harry had to be mindful of the delicate situation with his torn retina; he could not leave the embrace of the cottage. It was necessary for him to take a Calming Draught in order to keep his blood pressure at a normal level, so that his retina could heal properly. A side affect from the draught was that it caused his pupils to remain partially dilated, so he needed to stay out of the bright sunlight in order to protect his eyes. The best he could manage was to sit on the porch swing, either in the early morning or after the sun had lowered in the sky, and stare at the blur of his surroundings. 

That was about all he did, hour after hour, day after day. When not sitting on the swing, he would retire to his bedroom to lie on the bed and stare at the wall. He didn't talk or interact much with anyone. Even though he was now staying in a home with people that loved and cared about him, he felt completely alone. 

Harry knew something was wrong with the way he was feeling, but he just couldn't muster up the energy or interest to give the matter much thought. 

The void where he had been before the accident and where he was now, was much easier to deal with somehow. So he gave in and allowed it to carry him along, drifting within a bubble of emptiness. He had been alone for so long, trying to deal with his grief and loss, that this solitude had become his familiar companion. It didn't matter that the Weasleys loved him, his new companion kept Harry secluded and well beyond their reach. 

~~~SH~~~

Molly pushed open the back screen door and peeked out to check on Harry. 

He was in his usual spot on the porch swing, just sitting and staring. She went over, sat down beside him and gave him a warm hug.. 

"I was just about to go make a nice batch of scones; would you like to come in and keep me company?" 

Harry shook his head no. 

Molly glanced sideways at the young man. "How's your head feeling this morning dear, any better, or still achy?" 

"It’s better, thanks." 

Molly gave up on further conversation and decided to just sit with Harry. She watched Ron and Ginny as they worked in the vegetable garden, weeding and cultivating the plants. After they completed their morning chores, her two youngest were free to spend the remainder of the day as they wished. 

As they sat in silence, she caught sight of an owl far off in the distance. 

"Here comes the morning post." 

Harry looked up and watched the spec in the distance grow larger as the owl came closer and closer to the house, then dropped the post and parcels in Molly's lap.

Molly thumbed through the letters. "This one is for you." 

She handed a large envelope to him; it was from Hermione. There were many stamps and a return address that included the name USS Bella Rosa, then c/o Mr. and Mrs. Granger's London address. 

"Can you manage to read it on your own, dear? 

"Yeah Mrs. Weasley, I'll just close my bad eye. It'll be okay." 

"All right then, I'll just go in and bake those scones. Call if you need anything."

She gave him another hug then rose from the swing, but before she had made it through the screen door, Harry spoke to her.

"Mrs. Weasley?" 

"Yes, dear?"

"Um ... Thanks." 

She walked back to the swing, leaned over and gave him a gentle kiss on the top of his head. "You're very welcome, dear." She patted him gently on the shoulder before heading back to the kitchen. "I'll bring you a scone as soon as they're ready."

~~~SH ~~~ 

Harry slowly tore back the flap and pulled out what appeared to be a present and a letter.

_Dear Harry,  
Ron wrote and told me that you were finally able to leave the infirmary. I'm so glad the Headmaster allowed you to go to the Burrow. I'll bet Mrs. Weasley is taking good care of you. I've been so worried about you since I heard of the accident. I tried to get Mom and Dad to cut our trip short, but they said no. I wish you could be here Harry. The cruise boat is like nothing you've ever seen. It’s huge! There's even a library. At the beginning of our trip, we went through the Panama Canal. You wouldn't have believed it Harry, how it all works. It’s absolutely amazing. We've made it down the west side of Latin America and through the Straights of Magellan. It's fascinating visiting all the little towns, seeing the different people and their cultures. I'll tell you all about it when we're back at school. We'll only just get back in time to go to Diagon Alley and get my supplies. It's time for dinner, so I need to finish this letter. Please take care of yourself. I hope you enjoy the present.   
All my love,   
Hermione_

Harry bit his lip, trying to hold back the tears, set aside the letter and undid the wrappings to the present. 

It was a black baseball cap. Across the front of the cap, embroidered in an iridescent shade of green were the words PANAMA CANAL. Also enclosed was a soft cover booklet describing the construction and operation of the canal. 

"What's that?" Ron asked, as he and Ginny made their way up from the vegetable garden.

"A present from Hermione." 

Ginny picked up the booklet and began to read it as Ron took the cap from Harry. "Wow, this is so cool!" he marveled. 

"It's a baseball cap, Ron." Harry stated, matter-of-factly. 

"What's that ... baseball?" 

Harry just shook his head. They really had been brought up in such different worlds. "It's a Muggle sport they play over in the states; it’s like Cricket." 

"Yeah, I've heard of Cricket before. Why don't they make caps like this for Quidditch? That would be so cool." 

The three hung out in silence for a bit, Ginny reading, Ron busily adjusting the leather strap at the back of the cap, while Harry sat and stared at the porch railing. After Ron got the cap sized just right, he hopped up on the railing to stare out at the orchard and slipped in a few sideways glances at his silent friend. 

Ron debated for the umpteenth time, whether or not to bring up a subject the entire family had been skirting around ever since Harry's arrival. His intentions always good, if not wise, Ron decided to go for it. 

"You know Harry, we never did get to celebrate your birthday. How about if we do it in the next few days? We already got all the decorations and stuff. Come on, it will be fun!" 

Ginny immediately stopped her reading, fearing the worst, she held her breath. 

When Harry didn't respond and the silence grew to awkward proportions, Ron tried again. "Did you hear me? What do you think about having your..." 

Harry cut Ron off mid-sentence. "I don't think that would be a good idea." 

"What do you mean? Come on, you've got to have your birthday party, even if it is a little late."

"Ron, leave him alone,” repremanded Ginny.

"Hey Gin, no one asked for your opinion!" 

Harry interjected before she could respond. "Ginny... don't bother." 

Then he turned to Ron. "Look, I don't want a birthday party … okay? Can you understand that? I don't feel like celebrating my birthday. So just drop it, all right? Drop it!" Harry stood up and marched into the house, slamming the screen door behind him for good measure. 

Ginny glared at her brother. "Now see what you've gone and done? I hope you're proud of yourself!" 

Dumfounded by Harry's outburst, Ron stared in shock as his mother came out to ask what had happened to upset Harry so much. 

"Mom, I just asked him about having his birthday party. Who wouldn't want a birthday party?" 

Molly sighed. "Oh Ronny, Harry is going through quite a bit right now. You've seen how withdrawn and sad he is." 

"I know Mom, but maybe a party would cheer him up." 

Molly crossed the porch. Lifting the cap from her son's head, she lightly ran her fingers across the brightly colored letters. "I'm afraid it’s going to take a lot more than a party to cheer up Harry. We all need to be patient and supportive. He needs time Ron, time to get over all that has happened." 

Even as she said these words, she knew it wasn't true. It was becoming more and more apparent to this experienced mother that Harry needed help, a kind of help that neither she, Arthur, nor her children could give. 

~~~SH~~~

"Albus, you simply cannot let that poor boy go on like this, something has to be done; he needs help." 

Dumbledore stood facing the windows staring out at the pitch as his meeting with Poppy, Molly and Arthur, dragged on into the late hours of afternoon.

They had discussed all of Harry's past and current troubles, reminding Albus yet again, how badly he had failed this young man. 

He tuned out the voices behind him and envisioned the memory a very young and happy Harry, flying at break-neck speeds across the pitch. Then he thought of all the struggles Harry had faced since reentering the Wizarding world: the Chamber of Secrets, the Dementors, being abducted during the Third Task, the death of Cedric and then Sirius. All these things were culminating and taking their toll on the young wizard. 

Albus turned to face those present and refocused his attention upon the discussion at hand. Just then, Molly asked Poppy if she had a potion that could help Harry. 

"This is beyond my field of expertise,” the Mediwitch replied. “I can heal his physical injuries, but not the depression." 

"The Calming Draught you prescribed for him,” added Arthur, “it seems to be helping with the nightmares." 

"Harry's retina is almost completely healed now; soon I will take him off the draught. It would be logical to assume that shortly thereafter, the nightmares will resume. The draught only affects the symptoms; it can not cure the cause." 

The Headmaster sighed and considered all that that had been discussed that afternoon. 

Everyone's interactions with Harry during his stay in the infirmary and at the Burrow, combined with Arthur's rendition of what he had witnessed prior to the accident, all left little doubt that Harry was indeed not well. 

The ambivalence and lack of appetite were all classic signs of depression; Dumbledore was at a loss as how best to proceed. "What do you suggest Poppy?" 

"Counseling Albus; he needs counseling. You or I could contact St. Mungos and arrange for a counselor to visit him at the Burrow." 

Dumbledore turned to face the Weasleys; Arthur responded immediately. "Of course Albus, whatever he needs. We want Harry to be well and happy." 

At that moment, Falkes offered a soft and beautiful trill, as if voicing his agreement to what Arthur had just said. 

Dumbledore and his Familiar silently regarded each other for a time, seemingly engaged in a private communication. Eventually, Albus layed a gentle hand upon the crimson bird and stated his decision. "Very well, I will contact St. Mungos immediately and make arrangements for the very best counselor they can recommend." 

~~~SH~~~ 

Molly and Arthur had been on pins and needles all afternoon. Trying to keep their nerves in check, each had engaged themselves in much needed distraction. 

Arthur had chosen to play a game of Wizard's Chess with Ron, while Molly had taken to the kitchen and enlisted Ginny's help to make a treacle tart for Harry. When the flames in the Floo flared green, each parent just about jumped out of their skin. 

"Hello … Molly? Arthur?" 

Arthur stood and went over to the Floo. "Hello Albus." 

"May I come through? Is this a convenient time?" 

"Oh yes, we've been waiting for you." 

At those words, Ron and Ginny both started eyeing their parents. "We have? What are we waiting for?" 

"Shhh, not now Ron. We'll tell you later,” directed Molly. 

"Tell us what?" asked Ginny. 

She also received a "Shhh." 

The flames flared green and Albus Dumbledore stepped gracefully from the Floo. "How are all of you this fine summer's eve?" 

"We're fine, Albus. Would you like a nice cup of tea?"

"No thank you, Molly. I prefer to address the matter at hand.” He looked around the kitchen, “So, where is Harry?" 

"He's out back." Arthur pointed to the screen door. 

Dumbledore offered a slight bow. "Well then, if you will excuse me?" 

With that, the headmaster crossed the kitchen and stepped out onto the back porch, mindful not to let the screen door slam as it closed. 

~~~SH~~~ 

It was a magnificent summer's eve. The still air was filled with heady scents from the abundant flowers that graced the garden. Dumbledore could see Harry a short distance away. 

He was sitting on the grass at the edge of a knoll, leaning against one of the smooth round boulders, staring off into the distance.

Matching the young wizard’s train of sight, Albus looked to his right and was greeted by a magnificent sunset. He allowed himself a few cherished moments to bathe in the tranquility of the glowing orange sun as it sank heavily into the far horizon. 

But he had not come to the Burrow to enjoy the sunset. Bracing himself, Albus stepped off the porch and crossed the lawn. "Hello, Harry."

Startled at the unexpected voice, Harry turned quickly with his wand drawn. "Headmaster, I'm sorry, I..."

Dumbledore raised a hand. "Not to worry." He paused a moment at the sight of the thin and harried young man before him. "May I join you?" 

"Uh ... sure." When it became apparent that the old wizard intended to sit upon the grass, Harry made to jump up in order to assist. 

Again, Dumbledore raised his hand. "I may not be as young as I used to be, but I am still quite capable," he said in a lighthearted voice and adjusted his purple and gold silk robes. 

Albus took a deep breath and looked about the garden. "It seems you have the best seat in the house." 

"Pardon?"

Dumbledore inclined his head toward the distant sunset. 

"Yeah. I like it out here. It's quiet" The last bit of his sentence was no more than a whisper.

The two sat in silence and watched as the sun finished its decent. The orange sliver of light disappeared, gracing the sky with an encore of crimson hues. As the colors faded and the silence grew, Harry became a bit uncomfortable. _What is the headmaster doing here?_

As if reading his thoughts, Dumbledore spoke. "How are you feeling?" 

"Oh fine, I guess. I'm alright." 

"I am told you have been rather quiet as of late." 

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "Not much to say." 

The old wizard paused before responding, intent on guiding the course of the conversation. “I see. And what of your injuries? How are they fairing?"

"I'm fine ... really. Madame Pomfrey healed all of them." 

Dumbledore picked at a few blades of grass, then responded in a soft and hesitant voice. "I think perhaps not." 

"Excuse me?" 

"Harry, if I may be so bold, I believe there is one injury that Madame Pomfrey…" He paused. "That everyone..." He paused again. "That I may have overlooked." 

Harry stared at the old wizard, not knowing what in the world he was talking about.

Dumbledore slowly raised a hand and laid it gently upon the center of Harry's chest. “The injury I speak of … is here. It is the injury to your heart, the injury to your soul." 

Harry felt as though Dumbledore's words struck him at his very core. All of a sudden, it seemed rather difficult to take a breath. He wanted to tell the old coot that he was wrong, that he, Harry, was indeed fine. But he couldn't.

Dumbledore looked at Harry intently and his gaze seemed to bore straight into that empty void where Harry had been residing for such a long time now. 

Tears welled in his green eyes and his vision began to swim behind a sea of sadness. He lowered his head, trying valiantly to hide his weakness. 

"Harry, listen to me. You have faced so many challenges in your short sixteen years, far more than anyone should face in an entire lifetime. You've faced these challenges with tremendous courage, but for as strong as you are; I believe the loss of Sirius was your breaking point. You have no cause to be ashamed. On the contrary, the shame and failure lies with me. I thought I had provided adequately for you and certain that you'd be well cared for. I obviously failed in that task and my failure has compounded over these past two months. My confidence in your resiliency has led to my own complacency with regards to your well being, and for that Harry, I apologize. To see you now, so lost and consumed with grief, what can I do but to try and rectify my past mistakes?" 

Dumbledore placed a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder. "You deserved to have a wonderful childhood, to be loved and cherished; but that did not happen. You were tormented, just as you have been these past years. And what have I done to help you? Nothing more than cavalier decisions, confident that your tenacity would see you through all of these impossible situations and loses."

As Dumbledore continued to berate himself for his mistakes and praising Harry for his courage in the face of hardship, Harry was falling apart. A few months ago, Dumbledore had barely looked at him. Now he was articulating and giving voice to all that Harry had kept buried deep within his heart, truths he dared not face, and now these thruths were turning out to be a bit much to take. 

One moment, his head was buried in his hands as he broke down, sobbing. The next moment, slight yet strong arms wrapped around him and all he could see, through his tears, was purple silk and gold crescent moons. 

Watching as Harry succumbed to his grief, Albus had leaned forward and drew the weeping young man to him. He wrapped his arms around Harry and held onto him in a tight embrace. All his failures had been given voice, his regrets avowed. What mattered at this moment and for the foreseeable future was not Albus's failure, but Harry's healing. The old wizard sat quietly holding Harry, his cheek resting atop the wild mop of hair. 

"My dear boy, all the losses you have endured have taken their toll upon you. You have been so brave and so courageous, trying to face these challenges alone. But they are too much. You need someone to help you sort through your sadness and your grief. That is why..." He tightened his embrace, "I want you to agree to receive counseling." 

Harry had been crying so hard, he thought he misunderstood the Headmaster’s last word. “Counseling?" Harry asked with a muffled voice.

"Yes, counseling."

Only then did Harry realize that Dumbledore was holding him. He pulled gently out of the embrace and wiped away his tears. "Headmaster, what exactly is counseling?" 

"A counselor is a person trained to help individuals such as you. People who have been emotionally injured." 

Harry didn’t like the sound of this. "But ... what is it? How do they do that ... exactly?"

"To be perfectly honest my boy, I too was a bit fuzzy on the facts and have recently garnered an education regarding the matter. Counseling is a process of talking and discussion. I have been in contact with a number of counselors already, trying to locate the best one I could find for you." 

"But who would be talking?" 

"You would, Harry. You and your counselor would simply talk about the issues that you find upsetting." 

This supposedly simple process didn't sound simple at all. Harry tended to hold things inside. Now he was supposed to talk about them — with a stranger? “I don't know about this Sir; I really don't like to talk about my ... well, my stuff."

Dumbledore leaned forward. "Harry, look at me ... please." 

Harry did so. 

"Do you like the way you have been feeling this summer?" 

Harry slowly shook his head, no. 

"I realize, that after my past failures toward you, I have absolutely no right to pose this request. But I am going to do it, because I do care for you and I want you to be happy." 

He laid one of his hands upon Harry's. "I'm asking for you to please trust me in this matter, and agree to engage in counseling." 

Dumbledore closed his fingers, squeezed Harry's hand and stared intently into searching green eyes. 

Finally, Harry gave in. "Okay, I'll do it." 

Dumbledore smiled. "Well done my boy, well done." 

~~~~~  
Reviews gladly received.  
Sharia~


	5. Looking In

  
Author's notes: Harry begins counseling.  


* * *

5\. LOOKING IN 

Harry caught sight of the counselor when she appeared just outside the protective wards surrounding the Burrow. Wanting to get a look at her, he’d been waiting and watching from a hidden spot high up in a tree. 

When she walked through the front gate, he sighed then made his down the tree and headed for the house. 

In the two days since Dumbledore's visit Harry had remained aloof, withdrawing even further inside himself. With his retina now completely healed, he had begun biding his time out in the orchard. From beneath the camouflage of tree branches, he could watch Ron and Ginny play one on one Quidditch or just sit and worry about the upcoming discussions of his emotions with a complete stranger. 

Mrs. Weasley walked out onto the porch and saw Harry’s approach. "Oh, there you are," she said with relief. “I was just coming to look for you; the counselor is here." 

He walked up the steps then stopped and stared silently at her, his anxiety was clearly evident in his expression. 

"Harry dear, I know this is terribly difficult, but you must do this. You cannot go on the way you've been." She reached out and took hold his hand and without saying a word, he followed Mrs. Weasley into the house. 

~~~~~SH~~~~~ 

Harry had imagined this counselor would be old and dreary, somber and austere. But when he saw her, his breath caught — for she wasn't anything like he'd imagined. 

Her eyes were blue, bluer than even Dumbledore's. Her hair was white, but cut short and styled in a modern fashion. Her creamy skin seemed almost translucent, but it was her expression that impressed Harry most for she looked at him as if she already knew him. She seemed to radiate a sense of calm that reached out to him and abated his anxiety. 

"Hello Harry. My name is Helena, Helena Swanson." She stood and walked over to him. 

He managed a feeble “Hello," and shook her hand. He didn't know why, but this person whom he’d only just met made him feel at ease and at peace. 

Helena suggested that they take a walk in the garden. As they strolled along, she chatted about this and that, but it was the tone of her voice and her easy manner that eased Harry's nerves.

When they reached the cool shade of a large Mulberry tree, Helena conjured two comfortable chairs where they could sit. Then after a few moments and with a calm voice, Helena initiated what would become a journey of healing and self-discovery. 

“I am told Harry, that you have been rather sad this summer." 

Here we go. He lowered his head and gave a tiny nod. 

"Tell me, what do you feel when you are sad?" 

"What do you mean?" 

"Well, when we are sad our sadness can also make us feel other things." 

"Alone." He answered flatly. 

"You feel alone?" 

He nodded slowly. "Yeah, I always feel alone. Or maybe..." 

She waited a moment. "Isolated?" 

"Yeah ... isolated." He thought about this word — isolated. It hadn't occurred to him before, but that described perfectly the way he’d felt all summer long. 

"Can you share with me what you're thinking right now?" 

He bit his lip and for some reason, the back of his hand was suddenly quite itchy. 

"Harry?" she pressed. 

"I don't know what to say. I'm just thinking about feeling isolated." 

"Try to describe how this isolation feels to you." 

He knew this was going to be hard, but not _this_ hard. "Um ... I guess it feels kind of like there's a wall around me." 

Helena pondered his words. "Is the wall made up of anything in particular?" 

Harry found all her questions so confusing. "What do you mean, 'made up of'? You mean like stones and stuff?" 

"Mmm … no. Even though your wall is quite real, it isn't something you can physically touch. Let me rephrase my question." She tried again. "Can you decipher what it is that makes up this wall, or perhaps what _made_ the wall?" 

Harry thought and thought about his wall, about what had made it and how it had been made. As he began to realize the answer, his expression became more and more despondent. 

“What is it, Harry?”

He choked down a swallow. "Sadness. The wall is my sadness." 

~~SH~~ 

At the same time this young wizard sat speaking with his counselor, a much older wizard sat reclining in a chair a continent apart and a lifetime away. Unlike the green eyes haunted with sadness, his were red and slitted, like those of a snake. 

He watched the beautiful young Geisha as she made her way back to the Shinden, taking little footsteps along the lantern lit path. She wore a silk Kimono of sugary pinks with a pattern of rose colored cherry blossoms woven into the fabric. Aside from her beautiful features and delicate manner, she was also very talented and had just serviced the Dark Lord to his utmost satisfaction. 

As she made a turn, disappearing behind an old and sculptured Japanese Black Pine, Voldemort lowered his gaze to the water before him. 

One of the Shinden's large ponds was situated just in front of the palatial Tainoya where he had been residing these past two months. Bathing in the tranquility of these surroundings and that of his own contentment, he further indulged his serenity by sipping on warm Saki and drinking in the sight of the resting Koi as they floated near the top of the water. These shimmery individuals, Kohakus to Chagois, had all enjoyed their day. But now, as was this most feared wizard, they too were relishing the stillness of the summer night. 

After his fierce and draining battle with Dumbledore earlier that summer, Voldemort had retreated to the Far East to renew his energy and restore his powers. It was a land he’d grown fond of during his early adulthood, and a place he often visited. 

During his employment to Borgin and Burkes, Tom Riddle had traveled extensively, searching for yet undiscovered dark treasures that his employer could sell for profit. He’d made numerous acquaintances on these trips and developed associations with those he found intriguing or useful. One such acquaintance was an aristocratic Asian wizard who owned a magnificent estate located in the mountainous Niigata region of Japan. Aside from his wealth and willingness to accommodate the Dark Lord, this devoted acquaintance was also a gifted strategist and Voldemort took advantage of his insight to advance his cause. 

The two spent much time discussing military strategy, both historical and tactical. Voldemort’s plan was to first gain control of Europe, then Asia. When both sides of the continent were under his control, he would focus his intent on Russia, eventually conquering the entire north eastern hemisphere and ultimately the entire planet. 

It would be a long and arduous process, but he was determined to succeed. There was however, one minor thing standing in his way. A sole individual, confirmed by prophecy as someone capable of not only impeding the Dark Lord's plan, but of actually destroying him. And so this individual had to be removed, but accomplishing this task had thus far proven elusive. 

His previous failures to rid himself of this nemesis, a mere boy, only added fervor to his intent so that now, even in his weakened state, he determinately continued to send painful reminders of his presence and ultimate threat. 

Voldemort had devised a new strategy and soon he would return to Europe to implement this plot. He was fixed on succeeding this time; to that end he would devote his total efforts. 

_You have thwarted me far too long Harry Potter. It is time for all of this to end. I shall rid myself of you, then there will be no one to stand in my way._

~~SH~~~ 

For nearly two weeks solid, Helena came to the Burrow on a daily basis to work with Harry. She believed that a consistent series of sessions would get him to the point where he'd be able to cope with returning to Hogwarts. 

The sessions took place every afternoon just after lunch; some were harder than others, some more confusing. Often Harry would become frustrated, not understanding where Helena was leading him with her difficult questions. At first he kept hoping that she would just tell him how to make sense of everything, or say something that would ease his guilt; but eventually he realized these sessions would never provide a magical cure, only lots of questions, lots of soul searching and always the dreaded act of talking. And it was he, Harry, who had to do most of the talking. 

He spoke about his childhood and the Dursleys, the cupboard under the stairs and his wanting to be loved and accepted. Helena pressed him to recall each memory and every hurt feeling. 

It took hours and hours. Often when a session ended, he felt completely drained and could do nothing more than go to his bedroom to sleep for the remainder of the afternoon. He would come dragging out of his room at suppertime looking as though he hadn't slept in a week. Then after dinner he would retreat to the back porch swing, quiet and sullen. 

Helena assured Molly, Arthur, and their worried children that this was not unusual; that indeed, the difficult emotional work Harry was undertaking was physically taxing. Her advice was to offer love and support, and for Molly to cook the most appealing foods possible in an attempt to get Harry to eat more and hopefully regain some of the weight he’d lost over the summer. 

During the second week of sessions Harry's reactions began to change. He gradually started exhibiting minute yet genuine interest in the goings-on and activities within the gentle fold of the Burrow. 

It was just after dinner, about eight days before the beginning of classes. Harry headed out to his regular spot on the porch swing only to find it already occupied by his long time best friend. "Hey, Ron." 

"Hey, Harry." 

"What are you looking at?" 

Ron was surprised by Harry's interest and the fact that he even noticed the letter. "These are my OWL results. They came this afternoon while you were with Helena." 

"They did?" 

"Yeah, we were all talking about it at dinner. Weren't you listening?" 

Harry was baffled that somehow he’d missed the entire discussion. "Um ... I guess not." He ran his hand through his messy mop of hair. "So, how did you do?" 

"Okay, I guess. Here, look for yourself." Ron handed Harry the letter then rose from the swing. "I'll be right back." 

Harry studied the results as he moved to sit down on the swing, noting that Ron had passed everything but Divination and History of Magic. He was genuinely surprised to see the Acceptable grade in Potions. He also noted that Ron had been made Captain of the Quidditch Team for their sixth year. Reading that sentence brought back many painful memories. Dolores Umbridge, Harry's lifelong ban from Quidditch, Sirius, the Veil ... 

The sounds of the Weasleys pouring out of the house roused Harry from his sinking thoughts. He looked over to the approaching sea of redheads and noticed that Ron was holding another envelope. 

They all gathered round him; Arthur and Molly sat down on either side, while Ron and Ginny claimed the railing. 

Wrapping her arm around Harry, Molly handed him the envelope. "Go on dear, open it. These are your OWL scores." 

Even though he took hold of the envelope, Harry couldn't bring himself to open it. It was Molly's whispered words that gave him the assurance he needed. "Dear, we all love you. Whatever is written on that parchment would never change how we feel about you." 

"Come on, Harry!" chimed Ron. "We've waited all afternoon." 

"Yeah, just open it. It'll be fine," encouraged Ginny. 

Hesitantly, Harry opened the envelope, unfolded the missive and read aloud his OWL scores: 

Charms: Exceeds Expectations   
Transfiguration: Exceeds Expectations   
Divination: Dreadful   
History of Magic: Dreadful   
Astronomy: Poor   
Care of Magical Creatures: Exceeds Expectations   
Defense Against the Dark Arts: Outstanding   
Potions: Acceptable 

"Brilliant! We both got the scores we need to become Aurors!" 

"No we didn't. We didn’t pass Potions." 

"You really weren't listening, were you," replied Ron. "Go on Dad, tell him." 

"You see Harry, with all the chaos casused by Madame Umbridge last term, and the fact that only a handful of students received an Outstanding on their potions score, the Headmaster” Arthur quirked his face, deciding what word to use, “ _encouraged_ Professor Snape to take students with Acceptable grades and higher.” 

"See Harry, I told you," smirked Ron. 

Harry was stunned. "I don't believe it."

 

"Well done, dear," cooed Mrs. Weasley. 

"You should be very proud of those scores," offered Arthur. 

"Thanks." Harry looked at everyone surrounding him. "Thanks, all of you. You've been so great to me, taking me in and all." 

"You don't have to thank us, dear." 

"No Mrs. Weasley, I do. I want you to know how much I appreciate it. And I'm sorry for all the trouble I've caused..." 

"Now you listen to me, Harry." Arthur said adamantly. "We'll have no apologies. You are a member of this family. It may not be in writing, but it is within our hearts. We are here to support each other, in good times and bad." 

The teen lowered his head, overwhelmed by Mr. Weasley's sincere declaration. "Thanks Mr. Weasley." 

"Go on Harry, open the other letter," said Ginny. 

"What other letter?" 

"That one, silly," she said smirking as she pointed toward his lap. 

Sure enough, there was indeed another letter but this one was from the Ministry. Harry inhaled sharply, feeling a sudden sense of panic. 

"Everything is fine," Arthur assured him. "Go ahead and open it." 

Holding his breath, Harry opened the letter and read it silently. 

"Well? What does it say?" asked Ron. 

"The Ministry lifted the ban," he looked up with amazement, "I'm allowed to play Quidditch again." 

Excited over Harry's news, Ron threw both arms into the air and whooped with glee. Unfortunately, he also fell backward off the railing and landed in Molly's treasured Hydrangea bushes. 

"Ronald Weasley! How many times do I have to tell you to act your age?" 

Ron stood up, rubbing his sore behind and looked at the now squashed bushes. "Sorry, Mum." 

But the sound emanating from her left quelled Molly’s anger. At first it was just a small chuckle, but when Ron stood up in full view with Hydrangea flowers protruding from his shirt and hair; Harry broke out in laughter. 

Seeing Harry so happy spurred the others to join him and soon a regale of laughter filled the back porch. Molly wrapped her arm around Harry and held him tightly to her. She sighed in relief and offered a silent thank you to Merlin. It had been a long stressful summer but this first glimmer of happines from Harry gave her hope: hope that he was coming out of his depression, hope that he was indeed healing and hope that someday he might find joy in life. 

 

~~SH~~~ 

 

Author’s notes:   
Shinden-zukuri was a type of Japanese architecture during the Heian period. The main buildings of a Nobleman's estate from this period were the Shinden (the main house) and the Tainoya (meaning pavilion or 'opposite house'). The estates also included other traditional structures, large ponds and numerous pathways. Here is a link for further reading: http://www.sengokudaimyo.com/shinden/Shinden.html


	6. Back to Hogwarts

  
Author's notes: Harry's return to school doesn't go quite as planned.  


* * *

6\. Back to Hogwarts 

 

"You're very quiet today," Helena commented to Harry as they sat once again beneath the Mulberry tree. 

The previous day, Molly had taken the three teens on the customary shopping excursion to Diagon Alley for books and supplies. The Ministry sent along two Aurors to assure Harry's safety and the trip was completed without incident. 

Harry had originally thought the outing would be a welcome diversion, but as they went from shop to shop the whispers and curious stares evoked trepidation and anxiety.

"I'm sorry Helena, it's just that ..." His sentence trailed off as he nervously fiddled with a hole in his jeans. 

She leaned forward. "It's just what, Harry?" 

He bit his lip and stared at the hole, "It’s just that, last term ... after …" He struggled to get the words out of his suddenly dry mouth. "Well, I didn't see anyone before we all left for the summer break." 

His enigmatic statement left the counselor at a loss. "I'm sorry Harry, I’m afraid I don’t follow." 

He fidgeted some, then tried again. "I pretty much stayed with Hermione, Ron and Ginny in the infirmary that final week of school. I guess I was kind of avoiding everyone, so I really didn't talk to any of my friends after ... after what happened at the Ministry," his sentence trailed off in a whisper. 

"I see; you're nervous about seeing the other students?" 

He lowered his gaze and answered with a silent nod. 

"Harry, what they might think … ?" 

"But that's just it," he suddenly blurted out, "it’s not what they think, it’s what they know! _Everyone_ knows. It was in the papers … and people talk.” He buried his face in his hands, “How can I face them after what I did ... after what _he_ did to me?" 

Helena was a bit startled by his sudden outburst. When she'd first began working with Harry, he had been withdrawn from his environment and from those around him, with his emotions buried behind his wall of sadness. As she worked with him, they had accomplished a solid start by tackling many of the childhood scars. But as of yet, they had barely touched upon the more recent traumatic incidents. 

"What is it you think they'll say to you?" 

He lowered his hands but kept his gaze down, "We went to Diagon Alley yesterday. Everywhere we went, people were whispering and pointing at me. That's not new; people always do that, because I'm the ‘Boy Who Lived'. But now they're probably all saying that I'm a big dolt who ran off and got a bunch of people hurt and killed." 

"That's not what the media says,” Helena countered. “Everything I've read casts you as a hero." 

He drew in a sharp breath, as if her words had actually caused him pain. 

“Please Harry, share with me what you are thinking.”   
He looked out across the garden and released his breath which shook as it left his body. "I haven't told this to anyone ...” He started to tremble slightly as tears welled in his eyes. 

Helena waited patiently. Whatever this hidden secret was, she knew that Harry would have to face it by verbally acknowledging it. After a long painful silence, he finally continued. 

“When Voldemort possessed me, all I wanted to do... was die." He released a small nervous titter. "That doesn't sound like much of a hero." 

Helena sat quite still as the tact of the conversation had taken on mega proportions. "It would help if you could relay your experience to me." When Harry remained silent, she pressed, "Can you do that?"

He forced a swallow and then began to tell her about the possession: the pain from Voldemort's suffocating presence within him, how he thought that if he could only die then Voldemort and the pain would be gone and he, Harry, would once again see Sirius. 

"But you didn't die, you lived. How do you feel about that now?" 

"His expression echoed his confusion and sadness. “I don’t know,” he whispered. 

They spoke for most of the afternoon; Helena guided Harry in examining all of his impressions and feelings regarding the loss of Sirius, the possession and his right to life and happiness. 

"It's going to take time to put all of that behind you. Even so, it will always be a part of you. As for the public's opinion, it doesn't matter." 

"That's easy for you to say." 

"Would you rather stay here?" 

Harry furrowed his brow. "Where?" 

"Here, at the Burrow." 

"You mean, not go to school?" 

Helena had learned much about Harry's character during their work together; already knowing what his answer would be, she guided him through a bit of self-discovery. "Yes, you could just stay here." 

Harry was shocked. Not go to school, to Hogwarts, his home? He couldn't do that. He loved Hogwarts, living in the dormitory, being able to do magic, seeing his friends, and now that he was allowed to play Quidditch again — there was only one answer. 

"No. I don't want to stay here, but I also don't know how I'm going to face everyone." 

Helena set her quill and parchment down upon the grass, and then leveled a determined look at him. "Harry, I wish to offer you a bit of advice, something I believe in my heart to be true. Is that all right?" 

_This was a first_ , he thought. Generally, Helena only asked questions; granted, they were leading questions but she always made him do the talking. So perhaps she was finally going to give him that panacea he had been waiting and hoping for. "Okay." 

"Harry, I know that you are overwhelmed and frightened. Seeing all of your peers will be a daunting task, but I also know that Hogwarts is very important to you, so much so, that you are willing to face your own vulnerabilities in order to be there. I support you in that decision and I commend you for it. I believe you to be a brave young man, but you are also human and certainly not invincible." 

As she spoke these words of sincerity, his tears began to spill over his lashes — again. During their work together, Helena had witnessed Harry break into tears so often that by now, he had given up any effort to hide his emotions. So he held his gaze and looked at her through swimming emerald eyes. 

"I would like to continue our sessions once you have returned to Hogwarts. We can be very discreet about this, no one need know. It is one thing to be a figurehead, but you are also your own person and you deserve the respect to have your private matters — private." 

She noticed him release the smallest of sighs. 

"Returning to school will be a challenge," she continued, "and I will be there to help you, as will your friends and your teachers. And so, here is my advice." 

_Here it comes._

"Approach it one day at a time. Don't overwhelm yourself thinking about how you're going to make it through the entire school year or deal with the entire student body. Just think of getting through one day at a time and one person at a time. If that is too much, then try to get through one class or one hour, or even five minutes. If things get to be too much, call for me and I will come." 

It wasn’t the fix-all he’d been hoping for, but he still felt overwhelmed and couldn't seem to find his voice, so he just nodded. 

"You'll be all right, Harry." She smiled with that look of serenity which only Helena could offer. Her assurance gave Harry a bit of peace with his decision to return to Hogwarts, and he hoped that with help from her and from of all those who cared about him, perhaps things might be all right. 

~~~~~ 

The day of departure turned out to be the usual chaotic affair, with everyone collecting their belongings and trying to get to Kings Cross station on time. 

Hermione and Ginny squealed with glee when they saw each other, hugs were shared and all the initial greetings exchanged. As they waited to board the train, Harry noticed that Ron was unusually quiet around Hermione and decided to inquire after his friend's odd behavior later on, when an opportunity presented itself. 

Not long after the train departed, Hermione headed off to her prefects meeting and Ginny left to sit with Dean. Ron and Harry wound up sharing a compartment with Luna and Neville, who were chatting nonstop about the oddest array of subjects, and occupied their time during the long the journey by playing Exploding Snap and Wizards Chess. 

Harry felt at ease with his compartment mates, for they had all been with him that fateful day at the Ministry and knew to keep that topic of discussion unspoken. As for those that stopped by to say ‘Hi’, they were congenial towards him and kept their conversations light. No one brought up the subject of the Ministry or Sirius, much to Harry's relief. 

Late that afternoon, Luna and Neville went to go visit some of her Ravenclaw friends. After they left, Harry decided to try and discover the reason for Ron's odd behavior earlier that day. 

"Sure was nice to see Hermione again." 

"Queen's Knight to G4. What? Oh yeah, she looks great." 

Harry speciously perked his eyebrows. "You can say that again." 

Ron's head snapped up, "What do you mean by that?" 

"I just mean," Harry shrugged a bit, "that she looks ... different." 

"Yeah, I noticed. It's like she grew up, filled out ... you know?" 

"Yeah ... I noticed. King's Bishop to F3." 

"But more than that Harry, it's not just that she … well, you know .... filled out. She's different somehow. It's like she's, um, I don't know how to describe it — mature, maybe?" 

Harry looked out the window, trying to think of the word that might best describe the new Hermione. “How about ... cosmopolitan?" 

"Cosmo-what? What does that mean?" 

Harry shrugged his shoulders, knowing that Ron would clam right up if he felt at all pressed. "It’s someone who's been around people from other countries and stuff; it kind of affects how they are. See … you know the Burrow and Hogwarts, and I know Little Whinging and Hogwarts. But Hermione's been to all kinds of places." 

"I went to Egypt once." Ron offered defensively. 

"Yeah." 

Ron thought about Harry's words for a minute while silently nodding his head. "Yeah, that's what she is now, cosmopolitan." He smiled and then whispered quietly to himself, "I like that." 

Encouraged, Harry decided to investigate further but before he could pose his next question, the compartment door slid open and in came none other than Hermione. She collapsed onto the bench with a tremendous sigh, sitting down right next to Ron. "I thought that meeting would never end." 

"Anything interesting?" asked Harry. 

"Actually... yes. But you'll have to wait until the Welcoming Feast to find out. The Headmaster is going to address all the returning students." 

"He is? Do you know what he's going to say?" asked Ron. 

She nodded her head. "Yes, I do. Anthony was given a copy of the speech to read to the prefects.” 

"Why, where are you lot going to be?" he asked. 

"We're supposed to escort all the first years to their dormitories before he begins his speech." 

"Oh. So, what's he going to say?" 

"I'm not supposed to talk about it, Harry" 

"Oh, come on Hermione; you can tell us." 

"No I can't," she huffed. “Anyway, you two need to get into your robes; we're almost there!" 

Surprised, both Ron and Harry looked out the window and realized that Hermione was indeed correct, they were indeed nearing Hogsmeade. 

"How did we get here so fast?" asked Ron. 

"I don't know, but I've gotta loo. I'll be right back." 

"No worries mate. I'll put the Chess game away." 

Harry jumped up and left the compartment. As he headed down the hallway, he watched all the students ducking into compartments to change into their robes and prepare for the train's arrival at the station. 

Finishing up in the loo, Harry decided to splash some water on his face before heading back. His scar had been prickling for the last half hour and had started to give him another headache. Aside from these headaches and the occasional burning of his scar, Voldemort had been fairly quiet all summer. If he and everyone else cooperated, Harry might just enjoy a nice normal school year for once in his life. He smiled at the prospect. 

But this was Harry Potter, the prime target of Voldemort, the focus of several vengeful Death Eaters and someone who always seemed to attract trouble. Harry's short lived bliss came to an abrupt end when he opened the door. 

A strong blow threw him backward against the wall of the washroom. Immediately, his neck was pinned by the enormous forearm of Gregory Goyle. Before he could make any sense of what had just happened, Goyle began delivering some well placed punches. Even though Harry was on the verge of blacking out, his magic had a mind of its own. The air around them started to crackle and the walls began to shake. 

Crabbe opened the door just a crack. "What the hell's going on in there?" He looked around in a panic. “Hurry up and finish Greg; we've got to get going." 

"Okay Vince," responded Goyle, "just close the door already." 

Once the door was again closed, Goyle leaned in close and spit on Harry's face. "You don't scare me you freaky half-blood." The walls shook even more. "My father is sitting in Azkaban because of you, and my mum cries all the time." He delivered another punch. "You really screwed things up for my family Potter, and you're going to pay." He pushed a little harder on Harry's neck. "You keep quiet about this, or we'll pay a visit to that Mudblood friend of yours." 

When Goyle pulled his arm away, Harry collapsed to the floor. Goyle stepped over the struggling teen and quickly closed the door behind him. He joined Crabbe and the two sauntered back to their compartment, two cars ahead. 

They were proud of themselves for successfully pulling off what, according to them, would be the first of many taunts designed as a means to deliver vindication for their perceived injustice. Little did they realize however, that this initial brazen, bungling act would set into motion a series of consequences that would forever shape the wizarding world. 

~~~~~ 

The train began to slow down as it approached Hogsmead Station. It had taken a while for Harry to collect himself, but he finally did manage to stand. Leaning heavily upon the wall for support, he made it back to the compartment, staggered through the door and collapsed onto the floor. 

"Harry!" Ron moved immediately to help his friend. "What's wrong?" 

Hermione took one look at Harry's rumpled state and made straightway for the corridor. She looked in both directions, but it was empty. Everyone was apparently in their own compartments, preparing to exit the train. She returned to Harry who was still on the floor and knelt down beside him. "Harry, who did this to you?" 

Harry raised his hand, holding off their questions as he tried to get his breath. 

"Why do you even ask, Hermione? It had to be Malfoy, of course." 

"Ron, Malfoy was in the prefect's meeting. He and Pansy were still in there talking when I left." 

"Not ... Malfoy." Harry responded with a ragged voice. 

Hermione took hold of Harry by the elbow. "Come on Ron, help me get him up onto the seat." 

As the train pulled slowly up to the platform, Harry sat of the bench, taking little sips from the cup of water Ron had fetched for him. 

Hermione was sitting right next to him and her eyes were glaring with ire. "Now you listen to me, Harry James Potter; you absolutely must report this!" 

"No, Hermione," he gingerly rubbed his sore ribs. "I don't. And I want you and Ron to keep quiet." 

Hermione swelled with exasperation. "Harry, you're obviously not thinking clearly. We _have_ to report this. Look at you!" 

"Listen, this is my business, all right? I just want to forget it happened. I'm not going to report it, and neither are you two. Got it?" 

"Sure mate, whatever you want." 

Hermione glared at Ron, then turned back to Harry. "I can't make that promise right now. But I will agree not to say anything just yet. We are going to talk about this later. But please, go see Madame Pomfrey; you're obviously hurt." 

"No, I'll be okay. And besides, that's one of my goals this year — to stay out of the hospital wing." 

Hermione pursed her lips. "Are you sure you didn't hit your head? Because you're not thinking very clearly," she snapped. 

"Hermione!" Ron retorted. 

"Oh, forget I said that. Look, I have to go help with the younger students. Are you sure you'll be able to manage?" 

"I'll look after him, Mione. Just send Ginny in here to help with Pig and Hedwig." 

"Okay." With that, she gave Harry one more exasperated look then stood and left the compartment, mumbling to herself something about 'testosterone interfering with cognitive ability,' as she headed out the door. 

~~~~~ 

Ron, Harry and Ginny eventually made it out to one of the awaiting carriages and on up to the castle. The Welcoming Feast got underway with Dumbledore's usual greeting and the sorting of first years. But the most intriguing highlight of the evening was the new Defense instructor, Professor Channon Jackson. 

Seated next to Snape, the stark contrast between the two men was undeniable. Although each man's demeanor and carriage portrayed strength and elegance, the new professor was obviously taller and his larger frame was surrounded by a well defined musculature. Where Snape's skin was ivory and translucent; Jackson's was shaded a pale mocha. Both men had jet black hair; but as Snape's curtained his face, the new instructor's hair was straight, thick and hung like a sheet down the length of his back. Where Snape's chiseled facial features gave evidence to his European heritage; Jackson's face hinted at the exotic. 

Throughout the entire feast, nearly every student in the room had their eyes glued on the new professor. But there were other observations which occurred throughout the meal. 

Severus, who routinely scanned his Slytherins, couldn't help notice Crabbe and Goyle. They were snickering and whispering between themselves, and continually shot glances over to the Gryffindor table. Redirecting his attention in that direction, it was obvious that there was quite a bit of tension among the golden trio. 

Granger and Weasley repeatedly cast worried looks in Harry's direction, while Harry occupied himself with pushing the food around on his plate and staring blankly at the table. 

Glancing now back again toward the Slytherin table, Severus watched as Draco determinately tried listening to the conversation between Pansy and Theodore on his left, while ignoring Crabbe and Goyle's whispers to his right. But even Draco stole occasional glances in Potter's direction. 

A clamor arose as all the first years vacated the Great Hall, led by their house Prefects. After they exited the Hall, Dumbledore stood to once again address the student body. 

Ron nudged Harry to get his attention then nodded toward the front of the room, “Here it comes." 

Dumbledore and the professors moved to stand side-by-side in front of the Head table, displaying unity and strength. 

"My dear students, as Headmaster, I wish to extend to you our wholehearted apology for the events of last year. It was a stressful period for all, and to many of you it was a time of unjustifiable hardship. On behalf of your instructors and Heads of House, I want to assure you that this year will mark a return to the familiar. All decrees implemented by Madame Umbridge have been revoked. Everything is as it was prior to her unfortunate appearance at this institution. It is our desire that this school year and all those to come be a time of fruitful learning and happy experiences. Now, as you well know, classes will start bright and early tomorrow morning." Then, Dumbledore stretched his arms out wide. "Live well, laugh often and learn much. ** Goodnight." 

Many giggles sounded in response to the Headmaster's play on words. As benches were pushed and bodies clambered, the silent attentiveness gave way to a cacophony of chatter and movement, but Harry remained in his seat. 

"Come on, lets head on up." 

"Hold on, Ron." He swallowed and took a little breath. "I want to wait till it clears out a bit." 

"Okay." Ron looked a little more closely. "You know mate, you're a little pale there." 

"I'm fine, Ron. I just want to wait until it clears out some. All right?" 

"Sure, Harry." Ron feigned casualness as he continued to look on with concern. 

Once they made it up to the Gryffindor common room, Harry headed straight on up the steps to the boy’s dormitory, ignoring Hermione's attempts to resume their earlier conversation. He added very little to the first night's chatter amongst his dorm mates, but instead quickly got ready for bed. As he discreetly changed into his pajamas, he eyed the angry purple bruise that had formed on his lower chest, where Goyle had hit him repeatedly. 

Ron caught a quick glimpse of the bruise and was about to suggest going to see Madame Pomfrey when Harry called out, “Good-night” to everyone, crawled into bed and drew the hangings closed. 

~~~~~ 

 

**The correct quote is:   
Live well,   
Learn plenty,   
Laugh often,   
Love much.   
by   
Ralph Waldo Emerson


	7. A New Plan

  
Author's notes: Events motivate Dumbledore into action.  
I wish to extend my most sincere thanks to Winoniel for always finding time to beta my chapters. I am so lucky to have her as my Beta. Her works are posted here at HPF.   


* * *

7\. A NEW PLAN 

"Harry, are you going to eat that last banger?" 

Harry glanced down at the approaching fork and silently shook his head. 

"Ron, you've practically eaten everything on this table single handedly." Hermione was a bit edgy this morning. 

Ron speared the one remaining sausage. "Look Hermione, I can't help it if I'm hungry." 

"Will you two please... just stop arguing," Harry pleaded while rubbing his aching head. 

The students of Gryffindor house were finishing breakfast and receiving their new class schedules from Professor McGonagall. Working her way down by year, she was just finishing up with the seventh years. 

Harry was exhausted. He'd hardly slept the night before, the pain in his side waking him every time he moved. Now added to that was one of his headaches. 

"All right sixth years, move down to this end please," called out their Head of House. After forming a queue, each sixth-year filed along to receive their schedule, a bit of advice and then head off for their first class. When Harry received his schedule, he groaned when he saw his first class. 

"Something the matter, Mr. Potter?" 

"No Professor. It's just that..." 

Glancing down at his schedule, McGonagall grimaced. "Well, I must say starting each week with Double Potions could be a bit daunting, but I'm sure you'll do fine." She finished off with an encouraging smile. 

"Yes Ma'am." 

Harry shuffled off to join Hermione. She'd already received her schedule and was waiting for Harry and Ron. All three had qualified for sixth year potions, so they planned to walk down to the Dungeons, together. 

"Mr. Potter?" asked McGonagall. 

Harry turned. "Yes?" 

"Are you well? You look a bit pale." 

Shrugging, "I'm fine. Just one of my headaches" _That, and my side is bloody well killing me,_ he thought to himself. 

"Well, if it gets any worse I want you to go see Madam Pomfrey. Understood?" 

"Yes ma'am." 

~~~~~

As soon as Severus finished sorting his Slytherins with their new class schedules, Severus headed straightway toward the staircase. He knew the sixth years would already be lined up outside his classroom. Quickening his pace, he strode through the hallway to reach the potions lab. Passing between the two queues hugging the walls, Severus suddenly stopped. _There it is again,_ he thought. He stood stock stock still while assessing the sudden appearance of an old, familiar feeling of uneasiness. Slowly, he resumed his path toward the door and opened it, allowing the students entry. Severus waited by the door and was surprised once more when Harry had passed by; for when he did, the uneasiness intensified, and as he moved off toward his table, it diminished. 

Severus remained standing by the door, astonished at this realization. He'd always attributed this uneasiness as the affect of Gryffindors and Slytherins cohabiting in a relatively small space for a short period of time. Apparently there was a bit more to it than a simple case of two incompatible groups. Shaking off this epiphany, Severus entered the classroom and strode toward the front. His preoccupation out in the hallway had given rise to wary glances from his students. Turning, he surveyed the class. It was time for his intimidating speech regarding NEWT level potions, how everyone present should be grateful they had been allowed admittance into this class, how difficult the course work would be and so on. He delivered it with his usual aplomb. "No doubt you have completed the required reading for this first lesson." He then flicked his wand in the direction of the blackboard. "The directions are on the board. You may proceed." 

With the student's attention now off of him and onto the task of brewing a difficult potion, Severus moved to take a seat at his desk and put on a show of busying himself with paperwork. In reality, he tried to further assess his recent discovery. Why was he picking up on Harry's feelings? He shot a quick glance toward the young man. Granger had apparently headed off to retrieve the needed supplies from the cupboard, while Harry was attempting to start the fire under their cauldron. Now that Severus actually looked at Harry, it was obvious that something was wrong. His skin was pallid and his movements strained, as if he were in pain. 

Severus's thoughts drifted back to that time when he'd stood in the hallway of the Dursley's house, beside the small cupboard under the stairs. At that time, he'd been blitzed with Potter's emotions, albeit shadows of what had originally transpired. _How can this be happening?_ Severus thought to himself. He'd always prided himself on his acute skills in Occlumency. Was it because of his work with Potter last school term? That time when Harry breached Severus's shield and entered his thoughts and memories, had some sort of connection been established? But that couldn't be the answer, for Severus had felt this unease every year since Potter had enrolled in his class. 

A voice calling his name, roused him from his musings. "Yes, Miss Patil." 

"Professor, I'm not quite certain which part of this newt liver I'm supposed to use." 

"I'm coming." Heading over to the awaiting students, he thought he'd take this opportunity to perform a small experiment. After finishing with Miss Patil and Miss Brown, Severus proceeded to stroll about the room, surveying the other student's progress. Slowly he made his way over to Potter and Granger's desk. He planned to execute some subtle Legillimency, to see if he could glean a reason for the source of this uneasiness. As Severus stood behind the pair, he reached out with the utmost of care, and ever so lightly brushed upon the surface of Harry's mind. In contrast to his gentle efforts, he encountered vehement emotions: feelings of intense pain, a sense of fierce determination, fear and the memory of repeated blows. 

Severus immediately ceased the spell and withdrew to his office. He stepped out of sight from those in the classroom and leaned against a counter, unsettled by what had just transpired. There was no longer any doubt, Potter was injured and he received these injuries from some sort of altercation; and even though he was in great pain, he was trying desperately to carry on in order to protect someone or something. Potter needed medical attention, but Severus thought it unwise to have the teen strolling up to the third floor unassisted and unprotected. With the need for discretion in handling an apparently delicate situation, Severus closed the door to his office, cast a Muffliato charm and then Floo called the Headmaster. 

A minute or two later, Severus was back in the classroom once again strolling amongst the students. There was a knock at the door. "Enter." The door opened to reveal Albus Dumbledore. 

"Good morning Headmaster." 

"Good morning to you Professor Snape," Dumbledore replied in a cheery voice. "My apologies for the intrusion." 

"No apologies are necessary," Severus returned silkily. "To what do we owe the honor?" 

"I wonder if I might borrow Harry for a moment." 

The students had watched this volley of social banter, but now focused their attention on Harry. The surprised teen stared at Dumbledore with wide green eyes. Albus merely smiled back in response. Harry, Hermione and Ron all exchanged wary glances. He slowly stood and carefully lifted his school bag. 

"Mr. Potter," interjected Severus, "do please move along so that the class might return to their potions." 

"Oh, right. Sorry Professor." Without further delay, Harry exited the classroom. 

~~~~~

"May I?" Dumbledore reached for Harry's schoolbag. 

Bewildered, Harry simply handed over the bag which Dumbledore shrank and placed in his pocket. 

"Shall we?" Dumbledore gestured to the hallway before them. 

"Headmaster, what's going on?" 

"I believe you are the only one who can answer that question." 

"What do you mean?" They were now ascending the stairs. Harry had only been able to manage shallow breaths since his run-in with Goyle; going up the stairs was proving to be a challenge. 

"Professor Snape was quite worried about you." 

"He was?" 

"Yes Harry, he was and still is." 

"And he asked you to come for me?" 

"He did indeed." Noticing that Harry was starting to lag, Dumbledore placed a supportive arm behind the teen's back. "Professor Snape could see that you were in pain and needed help. I must say, now that I've seen you myself, I wholeheartedly concur with his assessment." 

"But Headmaster, I'm fine... Really, I am." Harry then started to cough and grabbed his side. 

Holding onto Harry a bit tighter, Albus watched as the young man struggled to catch his breath. 

"Are... are we going... to your tower... sir?" 

Dumbledore patted Harry reassuringly. "No, we are going to the hospital wing. Madame Pomfrey is waiting for us. Specifically, she is waiting for you." 

Now Harry looked up with fear written on his face. "No Headmaster, please. We can't. Really, I'm fine." 

"Harry stop this. Obviously, you are not fine. We are going to the hospital wing and you will allow Madame Pomfrey to heal you. What I want to know, is what happened? How did you receive these injuries and why did you not seek assistance?" 

Harry's fearful expression grew into full-blown panic. "Oh no, Headmaster. Please, I...." A series of coughs interrupted his sentence. "If say anything... they'll hurt her." Now he was having trouble catching his breath. 

"To whom are you referring?" Unfortunately, he was going to have to wait for his answer. Dumbledore watched Harry's face go from pallid to pure white, then grabbed hold of the teen as he started to collapse. "Harry, what's wrong?" 

His response took every bit of effort he could muster. "Can't... breath." 

In a heartbeat, the aged wizard immediately cast a Featherlight spell upon the struggling teen, swept him up in his arms and hightailed it to the infirmary. 

~~~~~ 

When the class ended, Severus enjoined Hermione and Ron to remain. After the other students left, he closed the door and attempted to get some answers. "Do either of you know how Mr. Potter received his current injuries?" 

Not sure what to say or if they should even respond, they simply stared back at the Professor. 

"I'm waiting." He pressed. 

Hermione broke first. "Oh Professor, it happened yesterday... on the train." 

"Exactly what happened, Miss Granger?" 

"Someone beat him up, just before we pulled into Hogsmeade," added Ron. 

"Someone? You don't know who?" 

"No sir. Harry won't say who did it." 

"Why won't he divulge the identity of the perpetrator?" 

"We don't know that either, sir." Hermione's voice was starting to quaver. "He refuses to talk about it and just keeps saying that he's fine. Professor, where is he now?" 

Snape sighed and leaned back in his chair. "I would assume, the hospital wing. At least, that was where the Headmaster was taking him." 

"You knew?" Ron's response was halfway between a question and an accusation. 

Snape focused his inky black eyes on the redhead. "I am only aware of the facts you've just relayed, Mr. Weasley. It was obvious to me that Mr. Potter was in pain and needed help. Not wishing to draw unnecessary attention upon him, I asked the Headmaster if he would escort Mr. Potter to the infirmary." 

"Professor, may we go see him?" pleaded Hermione. 

Snape shook his head. "No, go to the Great Hall and eat your lunch. I will send word along shortly to report his status." Snape rose to leave, but paused. "Mind you, keep this matter strictly to yourselves. Understood?" 

"Yes sir." They responded in unison. 

~~~~~ 

Severus came upon Dumbledore as he was just about to exit the infirmary. He could see Harry and Madame Pomfrey further down the ward. "How is he Albus?" 

Albus released a sigh of relief. "He'll be fine." He placed a gentle hand upon Severus's arm. "Severus, thank you for acting so quickly. If you hadn't..." Albus just shook his head. 

These words surprised Severus. "Why? What happened?" 

Albus relayed the fact that Harry had three broken ribs, that one of them had punctured the pleura and then on their way to the infirmary, Harry's lung started to collapse. 

Poppy walked over toward the two wizards. "He's sleeping now." 

"How long will he be in the infirmary, Poppy?" Asked Albus. 

"I've placed a healing charm upon the affected area. He'll need to remain very still while it draws the air out of the cavity. The entire process should take a day or so. After that, he'll be free to go, but he'll need to take at easy for a couple more days, while his lung strengthens." 

They discussed Harry's situation a bit further, then Poppy returned to her office. Severus then relayed the information he'd gleaned from his inquiries with Ron and Hermione. "Were you able to persuade Harry to divulge any details? The perpetrator's name perhaps?" 

"Mr. Crabbe and Mr. Goyle. I believe it was Goyle doing the hitting." 

"You believe?" 

"Well, he was rather preoccupied with just trying to take a breath." 

Severus looked over to where Harry lay sleeping. "Did he per chance mention why he remained silent?" 

"He was concerned for the safety of Miss Granger. I believe his exact words were, 'they'll hurt her'. I can only assume that a threat was leveled to go after Miss Granger, if Harry reported the beating." 

Snape began to smolder. Not only were the two oafs completely out of line in attacking a fellow student, but the level of their tactics rivaled that of a Mountain Troll. Preoccupied with the distinct possibility that the Sorting Hat must have made a mistake when it sorted Crabbe and Goyle into Slytherin, he barely heard Dumbledore call his name. 

"Severus?" 

"Forgive me Albus, did you say something?" 

"I asked if you had any further information." 

He shook his head. "No, unfortunately I do not." 

"Well then," Dumbledore sighed, "I believe it is time we paid a visit to Mr. Goyle and Mr. Crabbe" 

~~~~~ 

Later that day, Albus and Severus stood on the front steps of Hogwarts watching as two Aurors escorted Crabbe and Goyle to the front gates. Dumbledore had vacillated between leveling charges against the two young men or punishing them in-house. But then he discovered that Goyle had used a Brass Glove to carry out the beating. A dark arts artifact, charmed with metal like properties, creating the effect that Goyle's hand was encased in metal, easily breaking three of Harry's ribs. This act of wrongdoing was compounded by the fact that Goyle blackmailed his victim into silence by threatening the welfare of yet another student. Albus was left with little choice in the matter. The two ruffians were about to Apparate to the Ministry to be brought up on charges of assault upon a minor, with the added charge of using an item of dark magic. Albus was left with little choice in the matter. The two ruffians would be taken to the Ministry to face charges of assault upon a minor, with the added charge of using an item of dark magic. 

As Severus watched the four progress toward the Apparation point, he reviewed the content of the lecture he would be giving to his Slytherins later that evening. Severus had called for a house meeting to be held in the Slytherin common room just after dinner where he'd deliver an admonishment his snakes would not soon forget. Children of Death Eaters or not, anyone sorted into his house was expected to uphold the high standard of behavior befitting the name Slytherin. 

Also lost in thought, Albus continued to organize the plan he'd devised that afternoon. The event on the train with Crabbe and Goyle motivated Dumbledore to revisit the innumerable adversities that had plagued Harry since he'd reentered the wizarding world. It was now clear that a typical education in magic was simply not enough to prepare Harry for all that lay ahead of him. Convinced that he'd already failed the young man repeatedly, Albus was determined to rectify the situation. That afternoon, he'd spoken to those who would be involved, and had arranged a meeting to be held the following evening so that Harry could meet his new advisory team. 

A silvery winged serpent flew directly in front of the two wizards. It swooped and spiraled around them until its antics drew both preoccupied men from their thoughts. 

"Ah... Harry is awake," chimed Albus. 

Severus scowled at Poppy's frolicking Patronus. "Need it be so cheerful?" 

"Now, now Severus." The two watched as the silvery serpent, its mission now complete, faded away. "If you will excuse me, I wish to meet with Harry and present my new plan to him. Good luck with your meeting this evening." 

"Thank you, Albus. Good luck with Harry, and please give him my regards." 

Dumbledore turned and proceeded to make his way toward the hospital wing, his thoughts consumed with his past choices with regards to this powerful young wizard, this teen who was to be the savior of their society. The fact that they'd almost lost Harry three times in just the past four months had left Dumbledore shaken and determined to rectify the situation before it was too late. 

He'd spent the better part of the afternoon, devising and refining his new plan regarding Harry's training. As Dumbledore reached the third floor landing, he looked down the corridor leading to the infirmary and paused. He thought back on that evening at the Burrow, when he'd spoken with Harry and held him when the teen broke down. For too long, Albus had thought of Harry as a tool needed to defeat Voldemort; but he had failed to acknowledge that first and foremost, Harry was an individual, a young man with emotions and dreams, someone who had faced far too many hardships, someone who was now struggling to cope with his growing magic. Patting the piece of folded parchment nestled in the pocket of his robe, Dumbledore started walking toward the infirmary. 

~~~~~ 

"What's taking him so bloody long?" Ron huffed as he paced back and forth. "It's nearly curfew." 

"Ron, don't be ridiculous." Hermione cast a Tempus. "We've only been waiting an hour." 

She'd barely finished her sentence when the infirmary doors opened and out walked Dumbledore. "Ah, you're both here. Excellent." 

"Headmaster, may we visit Harry?" 

"I dare say you'd better. Particularly you, Miss Granger." 

"Me?" She asked. 

"Ever since he awoke, Harry has been quite concerned over your well being. It was all Madame Pomfrey could do to keep him from going in search of you. But do try to keep your visit brief. He is rather drained." 

"We will Headmaster, we promise." 

Dumbledore continued on his way as Ron and Hermione sprinted into the Infirmary. 

~~~~~ 

Hermione gave Harry an enormous hug when she finally reached him. With tears in her eyes she thanked him repeatedly for his gallantry, forsaking his own well being to assure her safety. Then in the next breath, she scolded him for his lack of good judgment. 

"Let the poor man breathe, Hermione." 

"Oh, I'm sorry. You're right Ron." She let go and sat back, looking at her friend with concern. "How are you feeling?" 

Harry shrugged. "I'm OK," He asked in a whisper of a voice. "No homework?" 

"Nope. Everything was mostly review today." Ron stared at the magical encasement Madame Pomfrey had placed on Harry's side. It was slowly drawing the air out of the pleural cavity. "Wow mate, that thing looks bloody awful." 

"Gee... thanks Ron" Harry was taking the smallest of breaths. It was obvious to both his visitors, that trying to speak was presenting him with a bit of a challenge. 

"Don't listen to him Harry," consoled Hermione. "But you do look a little pale." 

Harry sank deeper into his numerous pillows. Because he was and would continue to experience trouble with his breathing until his lung had fully inflated, Madame Pomfrey wanted to keep his torso elevated to help alleviate some of the distress. "I'm OK. I'm just really tired, and it's... kind of hard... to get a breath." Since Harry could only manage shallow breaths, he could only get out a few words at a time. 

"Then you just go to sleep and we'll be by tomorrow..." 

"Hold on," interjected Ron "I want to know what Dumbledore said to Harry. He was in here for bloody all evening. He made us wait out in the hallway, the git." 

"Ron!" scolded Hermione. 

"Sorry." Ron looked around sheepishly to make sure no one had heard him. "So mate, what did he say?" 

Harry lolled his head to the side and nodded toward the piece of folded parchment sitting on top of the nightstand. "That." 

Hermione immediately snatched up the parchment and began examining it. "Harry, this is a new schedule." 

Harry decided just to nod instead of talk. 

"You have additional courses, and..." 

What additional courses?" interrupted Ron. 

Hermione shot Ron an exasperated look. "Ronald Weasley, must you always...." Hermione stopped midsentence, silently counted to ten, and then addressed Ron in a placating voice. "If you would be patient for just a moment, I will read the list to you." 

Moving just their eyes, Ron and Harry exchanged a silent, knowing look. 

"In addition to his regular classes, Harry is going to be having an independent study class with Professor Jackson, mentoring sessions with Dumbledore and... Occlumency with Professor Snape." 

"Occlumency... again?" Ron said in aghast. 

Harry pursed his lips and nodded his head. 

"Harry," added Hermione, "that really is for the best. Your scar keeps bothering you, and you're still getting those headaches." 

He just continued to nod. 

"But, we're talking Snape!" exclaimed Ron. 

Harry attempted to explain. It really was an effort to breathe and talk, all at the same time. "Dumbledore promised me... it would be different this time. He promised that Snape.... would be nice to me." 

"Hey mate, did you know it was Snape who got help for you?" 

Again, Harry settled on just nodding his head. He really was getting quite tired. 

"What about your sessions with Dumbledore?" asked Hermione, "Was he at all specific?" 

"My wild magic." He answered defeatedly. 

Madame Pomfrey called out as she approached the bedside. "All right you two, Mr. Potter needs to get some rest." 

"Yes ma'am," they both answered. 

"Rest up mate. We'll come by and visit you tomorrow." 

Hermione gave Harry a gentle hug and whispered in his ear, "Thanks again Harry, but don't you ever do anything like that again." She and Ron headed back to the tower, waving their goodbyes as they exited the infirmary. 

Madame Pomfrey handed her patient a vial of Dreamless Sleep then set about removing the collected air from the encasement. 

"I don't think I'll... even need this. I'm really tired" 

"You need a full night of uninterrupted sleep. Drink up, Mr. Potter." 

Poppy sat down on the edge of the bed. She generally maintain a no-nonsense approach with her patients, but Harry always seemed to have so many trying experiences and had been such a frequent visitor to the infirmary, that she'd developed a soft spot for the teen. "Harry, I wish you had come to me sooner. We could have avoided all these complications." 

"Sorry." 

She shook her head while tucking the blankets around his shoulders. "I wasn't seeking an apology from you, Harry. To be honest, considering all that happened last year, I can understand your reticence." 

Harry's eyes were starting to droop. "Sometimes it's hard... to know... what to do." His eyes fully closed, and Poppy could tell that he had drifted off. 

She sighed and reached over to brush back the fringe of his bangs. "What are we going to do with you, Mr. Potter?" She stood up from the bed and cast a monitoring charm to alert her if Harry's breathing worsened. Then after Noxing the lights, Poppy retired for the night. 

~~~~~ 

Author's note:  
Kudos to WhiteCotton of SeverusSighs, for the winged serpent idea for Poppy's patronus. ( In canon, there is no mention of a patronus for Poppy) The serpent was a logical choice as it is part of the medical emblem (The Rod of Asclepias). I love her idea of making it a winged being; it added a delightful touch.

Thanks for reading.   
SHaria


	8. Beginnings

  
Author's notes: Numerous doors open for Harry, all first steps of his destiny that continues to unfold.  


* * *

8\. Beginnings 

 

"What the bloody hell?" Ron muttered in disbelief as Hermione squealed, “Harry!” 

"Mr. Potter!" called out Professor Flitwick. "You need only to establish the charm; please do not cause a flood in the classroom!" 

Startled from his preoccupation, Harry stared from his thunderstruck friends to the torrent of water gushing from his wand.

"Finite!" he shouted.

The flow of water stopped immediately, but Harry’s eyes grew wide with shock when he turned around and saw Professor Flitwick standing ankle deep in the water. 

"Professor ... I'm so sorry. I’ll fix it." Harry panicked and incanted, “Evanesco!"

All the water disappeared. However, so did every bit of detritus that had been lurking about in the classroom. An odd sucking sound was heard and felt by all as every spec of dirt, lint and dust disappeared from the floor, the tables, the student’s clothes and every nook and cranny.

The students, Professor Flitwick and Harry stood stock still as they all tried to determine what had just taken place. 

"Mr. Potter!" The tiny professor walked briskly over and reached up to grasp Harry's hand, encouraging him to lower his wand. "Mr. Potter?" He repeated in a calm tone of voice. 

Shaken, Harry looked down at the tiny wizard; it seemed as if everything was moving in slow motion. "Yes Professor?" 

"I think that's enough for today. Perhaps it best you take your seat." 

"Yes sir." Harry felt a bit dazed. He walked to his desk and heard faintly as Flitwick called out for the other students to resume the practical. He did not however notice his professor cast a Patronus charm and send it flying out the classroom door. 

The Aguamenti charm had been the lesson topic for this first Charms class of the semester. Most of the sixth year students were only managing sporadic drips to piddling dribbles of water. But Harry, his thoughts absorbed with all that had been discussed during the Headmaster's meeting that previous evening and anxious over his upcoming Occlumency lesson with Snape, had barely paid attention during the lecture and then failed to notice his overt success at casting the charm. 

Thoroughly embarrassed, Harry sat down and lowered his head. It was one thing to lose control of his magic in private or in front of the Dursley’s, but to have lost control in Charms? 

He was beyond embarrassed he was humiliated, but he also knew he needed to calm down before something else happened. Not sure what to do, he decided to concentrate on taking steady breaths. Counting to ten had helped Hermione the other day, so he gave that a go as well. The breathing and counting seemed to work and his panicky feeling abated. Unfortunately, his goal of avoiding any further humiliation failed when the new DADA professor walked into the classroom. 

Channon Jackson, his expression neutral, was the epitome of composure as he stood and listened to Filius relay the events of the Aguamenti fiasco. When the tiny Charms professor finished Jackson quietly asked Harry, who was now mortified beyond words, to accompany him from the room. 

This escorted exit from a class marked the second such occurrence to have taken place only three days into the new fall semester. 

~~~~~SH~~~~~ 

"Why don't you shrink your book bag Harry and put it in your pocket," suggested Channon. 

"Professor, I'm really sorry about all of this." 

"Not to worry, not to worry." 

This wasn’t the way Harry had wanted to start things off with his new DADA professor. Dumbledore had said so many good things about Jackson that Harry was actually looking forward to Defense classes this year. Defense and Quidditch were, in his opinion, the only things he did well and now look what happened. _He probably thinks I'm a total dolt._ ”Where are we going, sir?" 

"I thought we'd take a walk. I want to talk with you for a bit." 

_Yeah, I bet you do._ "Yes sir." They were descending the great stairway when it finally dawned on Harry that the professor had been calling him by his first name. 

Dumbledore had approached Channon two months previous, imploring him to take a sabbatical from his duties as an Unmentionable and come teach Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts. He’d explained how the students had fallen terribly behind in Defense, one of the ramifications of the nightmarish tenure of Dolores Umbridge, and that he wanted Channon to work with them and bring them back up to speed. 

Then on the first day of school, spurred by the attack upon Harry Potter and his episodes of wild magic, the Headmaster had sought out Channon once again, this time asking him if he would be willing to become a sort of personal trainer to the young wizard. 

Harry hadn't spoken much during the meeting that previous evening, but Dumbledore had already told Jackson a great deal about the “Boy Who Lived.” 

Channon had taken immediately to Harry, sensing the young wizard's sincerity and good heart and he personally welcomed the opportunity to be able to help this person who was destined to save their world. 

~~~~~SH~~~~~ 

The duo walked until they reached the lake. It was now late afternoon and rather warm outside. The Professor stopped to remove his robe and suggested that Harry do the same. After shrinking their robes, they continued walking along the shoreline. Then Channon asked Harry to retell, in his own words, what happened during Charms. He’d postulated a reason for Harry’s dilemma and after hearing Harry’s accounting, he determined his theory was correct. 

"Harry?" 

"Yes, Professor?" 

Jackson paused, "Listen, when you and I are working together, I would prefer you just use my first name, all right?" 

His request, although surprising, immediately put Harry at ease. "Yes sir. I mean, okay … Channon." 

The Eurasian wizard smiled brightly. "Super. Let's keep going." They resumed their walk. "Now Harry, please tell me what you think magic is." 

"What magic _is_?" 

"Yes." 

Harry thought for a moment. "Magic is .... well, magic." 

"Could you be a bit more specific?" 

Harry suddenly wished Hermione was there with them. "Um, well." Then an idea struck. "I know ... magic is power." 

"Better; but try to be even more precise." 

Harry thought and thought about what magic could possibly be. The longer he thought about it, the slower his pace became until finally he just stopped and stood there in disappointment for having failed this first test. "I guess I don't know what magic is." 

Channon gave him a pat on the back, "Don't worry about it." Then he looked out across the lake, "Why don’t we go sit down on that rock over there?" 

They maneuvered across an outcropping of large rocks that reached far out into the water; at the very end was a large flat boulder. 

Channon sat down, removed his shoes and socks and plunked his feet into the water. 

Not sure what to make of this, Harry decided to just sit down next to him. They were quiet for a while as each wizard took in the quiet stillness of the water. 

Eventually, Channon tossed a small stone into the water. "Do you know what causes the water to ripple when a rock is thrown into it?

"Well, I think it's called displacement or something like that." 

"You’re right. But exactly what is making the ripples occur?" 

Harry paused, and then offered a timid guess. "Energy?" 

Channon smiled enthusiastically, "Excellent Harry! It is indeed energy.” He tried once more. "Now, let me ask you again; what is magic?" 

It seemed so obvious now. "It's energy. Magic is energy, right?" 

"Yes, magic is energy.” Channon continued with a passionate zeal, “Harry, everything in the universe has this energy: the planet, the trees, the water, even this rock that we are sitting on — they all have this energy." 

This was a novel concept to Harry. He thought about everything having its own energy and he tried to grasp what that might imply. Then, the memory of what had just happened earlier in class surged back into his mind. "Yeah but Channon, this rock doesn't go around flooding classrooms, and I don't think a tree would break all the windows in my Uncle's house." 

"No, they wouldn't,” he paused for effect, “but neither are they you." 

"Excuse me?" 

"Harry, you must realize that you possess a tremendous amount of this energy, or as we like to call it — magic. This isn't a bad thing; it's a good thing." 

"Not if I can't control it." Harry picked up his own pebble and threw it out into the water. "I don't know why it's getting worse." 

"How old are you?" 

"I just turned sixteen last month." 

Channon held his hands out to the side as if to say — Well there you are. 

"What do you mean?" Harry imitated the motion. "I don't understand." 

"You'll soon reach the age of majority." 

"Yeah, I know; I'll legally be able to do magic whenever I want." 

"There is a bit more to it then that." 

"What?" He was growing more and more perplexed by the second. 

"Harry," the expression on his face marked his surprise at Harry's naivety, "you'll come into your full power." 

"Yeah, but what does that have to do with not being able to control my magic? Everyone gets their full power at seventeen, but you don't see them going around accidently making the castle shake." 

The professor sighed with exasperation. "Not- everyone- is- you," he emphasized each word for effect. 

"I know," his voice sounded very small. "I always mess up in class, get into trouble, and..." 

Channon interrupted Harry midsentence, "No wait, you misunderstood me. I'm not talking about grades or school rules; I'm talking about the enormous amount of magic you possess." He looked imploringly at the baffled young wizard. "Hasn't anyone ever spoken to you regarding this possibility?" 

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Harry shouted in frustration. 

"I can see that!" Channon leveled right back. 

Harry gasped. “Oh Merlin, I yelled at a professor. I’m sorry sir, I didn’t mean ...” 

“Don’t worry about it.” Channon patted Harry on his shoulder, “I know you’ve been through a lot this week.” 

Then he pulled out his wand and pointed it toward the castle. “Expecto Patronum.” A large silver tiger erupted from the end of the wand and flew up toward the Headmaster's tower. 

Harry watched with amazement as the powerful Patronus sailed off out of view, then turned and looked questioningly at his professor. 

Channon cleared his throat and took a determined breath. "Harry, I am going to explain everything to you, right here, right now. You must understand exactly why you are having these surges, and that you are not alone in this phenomenon.” 

His hand was still on Harry’s shoulder and he gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you how to deal with your growing power." 

~~~~~SH~~~~~ 

Almost two hours later, Harry and Professor Jackson came strolling into the Great Hall for dinner. Harry headed toward Gryffindor table while the DADA professor made his way up to the high table. 

"Where have you been?” asked Ron when Harry sat down next to him. “The Headmaster told us you'd be late and not to worry, but nothing else." 

"I fixed a plate of food for you and placed a Warming charm on it," added Hermione. 

"Thanks Mione, I'm starving." He noticed she'd included a rather large spoonful of vegetables. Sidetracking the vegetables, he dove in on the roast and potatoes. 

"Are you going to tell us what made you so late for dinner?" Hermione pressed. 

Harry swallowed quickly, "Why didn't you two tell me what a great teacher Cha... Professor Jackson is? " 

"Just when were we supposed to do that? Let's see…" Ron stared at the ceiling while precariously waving around a spoonful of chocolate gateau. "Were we supposed to tell you during the two minutes we were allowed to see you Monday night? or perhaps on Tuesday when we were all in class and you were still in the infirmary; or how about Tuesday night, when you were in your meeting with the Headmaster, Snape, Channon and McGonagall?" 

"Okay, okay ... I get the point." He decided to give the vegetables a try, "Anyway, he's great. He explained everything to me." 

Harry then relayed to his friends what the professor had explained regarding his wild magic. 

Hermione had been about to take a sip of pumpkin juice, but she stopped and stared in surprise while holding her glass just inches from her lips. 

"You okay there, Mione? asked Ron. 

"I’m trying to recall if I've ever read of such occurrences.” She set down the glass, “Certainly there should be something of this phenomenon mentioned in Modern Magical History or one of our Magical Theory books." 

"I don't think it would be,” Harry answered, “cause' it doesn't happen very often. According to Professor Jackson, this has only happened to Merlin, Dumbledore, Voldemort and now… me." Harry ducked his head with embarrassment as he finished this proclamation. 

"Wow," commented Neville, "you must feel so important." 

"I wouldn't put it that way," Harry sighed. "Mostly, I feel relieved, cause’ I really thought I was starting to lose it." 

Harry continued to eat his dinner, content to just listen as his friends chatted about his extraordinary measure of magic, his approaching majority and how all these magical surges were just a hint of what his ultimate magical level would be, and how only a handful of wizards had ever experienced magical surges during this stage. 

Harry was so relieved to finally have an explanation for his wild magic, he found he actually had an appetite. Working away at the large plate of food Hermione had prepared for him, he contentedly stared off at nothing in particular while all the discussion continued on around him; his friends voices were a mere buzz in the background of his reverie. 

The sound of scraping benches snapped him out of his daze; only then did he realize that he had been staring straight at Anthony Goldstein, who in turn was returning the gaze. 

Anthony winked and offered a subtle, wispy grin, just before raising his tall, statuesque frame from off the bench. He passed a lingering glance over Harry before turning to leave the Great Hall. 

Harry quickly dropped his gaze back down to his now empty plate, feeling awkward at the sudden fluttering sensations he was feeling. 

~~~~~SH~~~~~ 

As Friday’s sixth year Transfiguration class drew to a close, the students began packing up books and stowing away parchment and quills. "Attention, please,” Professor McGonagall clapped her hands to restore some order. "Next week we shall begin our study of human transfiguration. Please read chapter two in your text and prepare a two foot long synopsis which I will collect on Tuesday. Your synopsis _will_ be graded. Have a nice weekend." She ended in a cheery voice. 

Ron immediately started complaining about the assignment. "I can't believe she gave us all that work to do over the weekend. I was hoping we could get in some serious Quidditch practice." 

"I think we should use this free period and go straight to the library," suggested Hermione. "We could at least get the reading finished by suppertime." 

"Can't." Harry quickly stowed away his copy of _A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration_. He cast a surreptitious glance before continuing in a whisper, "This is my scheduled session time with Helena." 

"Oh, no worries mate. We'll cover for you." 

"Thanks Ron." 

"We'll see you at supper,” added Hermione. “Come on Ron, you and I can get started on the assignment". 

Ron rolled his eyes and sighed as Harry raced out of the classroom. 

~~~~~SH~~~~~ 

High on the seventh floor, down the quiet corridor which housed the entrance to Headmaster's office was a sitting room, located just past the Gargoyle. Sparingly used, the Headmaster had the elves prepare this room as a comfortable, private location for Harry and Helena to conduct their continued sessions. 

Entering the room, Harry saw Helena already seated in one of the richly upholstered chairs, sipping on a cup of tea. "Hi Helena, sorry I'm late." 

"You're not late. Why don't you get yourself a cup of tea and relax a bit before we start."

She watched him prepare a cup, "You're looking so much better then you did on Tuesday. How is your breathing?" 

Harry sighed as he sat down with an _Oomph_ , "Oh, fine. Really, I feel good." 

"Well, I'm relieved to hear that." 

"Yeah, me too." 

"And how are your classes going?" 

He took a sip and squirmed in his chair a bit before answering, "Well, aside from missing the first two days caus’ I was in the infirmary, and then flooding the Charms classroom on Wednesday, everything else has gone pretty well." 

Helena's raised eyebrows told Harry that his smoothing over of events was not going to slip by without being discussed. By the time he'd finished repeating the conversation he’d had with Professor Jackson and all the implications and relief it entailed, then thoroughly hashing out Harry’s own thoughts and emotions on the subject, nearly an hour had past. 

"I must say, you seem very composed for such a monumental realization." 

"Helena, to be honest — I'm relieved. For a while there I thought maybe Voldemort had something to do with the wild magic. But it isn't him, it's me; and Professor Jackson is going to help me learn how to deal with it. I have my first private class with him tomorrow morning." 

"I'm happy for you, Harry. Now, our time is almost up; is there anything else you wish to discuss?" 

The incident with Anthony flashed through his mind, but he didn't dare bring up that topic. Then there was the ever looming, dreaded Occlumency session with Snape later that evening. "Well yeah, there is." 

"What?" 

"I'm supposed to have an Occlumency lesson with Professor Snape this evening. My lessons with him last year ..." he lowered his head, "didn't go very well." His voice trailed off as he finished his sentence. 

"Yes, you mentioned this during one of our sessions at the Burrow." 

"Oh yeah, I guess I did." 

"As I recall, you felt that Professor Snape's instructions were vague." 

"You could say that again." 

"Why don't you simply ask him to please present his instructions using different verbiage?" 

Harry's head shot back up. "You're kidding, right Helena? Me? Ask Snape to use … what did you say — different verbiage? I think he'd shrink me and stick me in one of those jars he has sitting all over the place." 

She laughed. "Just give it a try, Harry. Of course, phrase the request in your own words, and be polite." 

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "I guess I could give it a go." 

~~~~~SH~~~~~ 

Earlier that week, Dumbledore had approached Professors Snape, McGonagall and Jackson to go over the details of his plan for Harry’s training. 

As Harry's Head of House, Minerva was briefed on the increasing episodes of magical surges, the additional training he'd be receiving and the scheduled times for such. Channon Jackson would work with Harry one on one, teaching him the tools he'd need to deal with his ever growing power. Then, turning to Severus, Albus implored that he resume teaching Occlumency to Harry. The threat from Voldemort still existed; the ongoing headaches were a constant reminder that the Dark Lord was out there somewhere, biding his time. 

To the Headmaster's surprise, Severus had actually embraced the task, seeing it as an opportunity to hopefully make amends for his past injustices. 

That however, had proved easier said than done. Though his desire and intent were sincere, Severus's ability to teach was not one of his fortes. By his own admission, he was no teacher; he maintained this role as a means to carry out his duties for the Order. He was a researcher at heart; whether or not the students learned the art of Potion making was of little concern to him. Those with talent would grasp the knowledge and learn the needed skills; those that didn't— well, they'd do better concentrating their efforts elsewhere. No, this assignment of teaching Occlumency to Harry would mark the first time in his career as a professor that he honestly wanted to succeed in teaching a skill. 

In the days following the meeting, Severus had devoted numerous hours of contemplation and painstaking revisions to develop the methodology he would use. He was determined for a successful outcome this time around with Harry. 

It was Friday evening. Severus was sitting at his desk grading a pile of essays from the third year Potions class: _Suspension Solution, or Pot of Poison?_. 

Casting a Tempus, he noted that only six minutes remained until the scheduled first Occlumency lesson. Putting the essays aside, he stood up, stretched his tall lean frame and then began to pace slowly around his office, casting frequent glances toward the door. 

On the other side of Snape's office door stood Harry; he'd arrived fifteen minutes early, determined not to be late. He was also just as determined to stay calm in order to keep a handle on his magic. _Not in front of Snape; I will not lose control in front of him._

He was taking steadying breaths as he counted: four beats on the inhale, four beats on the exhale. He didn't know what else to do, but this seemed to help. He'd cast Tempus after Tempus while staring at the door, waiting, taking his breaths and counting. It was now eight o'clock. The time had come. Harry raised his hand — and knocked. 

When Severus opened the door, both stood and stared at the other as each were immediately uneasy at being in the other's presence. This was the first time they'd been alone, at least to Harry's recollection, since that fateful Occlumency lesson last semester. 

"Come in, Mr. Potter." 

Harry quietly entered the office, keeping his sight lowered to the floor. "Good evening, Professor." 

With Severus's newfound awareness of Harry's history, he could now see the obvious diffident nature of the teen. Unfamiliar, rudimentary seeds of compassion arose in his heart as the shame of his past transgressions washed over him anew. 

"Please follow me." Heading off with Harry following warily behind, the two entered Severus's side chamber. This room was in complete contrast to the office they'd just left and Harry was awed by its elegance. 

The walls were paneled in oak, stained a deep mahogany color and highly lacquered. Row upon row of books lined two of the walls; a fireplace occupied yet another. The floor was covered with a beautiful Persian rug, its designs portrayed in colors of emerald and silver. In front of the crackling fire, were positioned two dark green wingback chairs. 

"Wow." Harry whispered. 

"Please sit down, Mr. Potter." 

"Yes sir." Harry looked all about the room as he went to sit down and was startled yet again, when Snape turned from the sideboard carrying two cups. 

"Would you care for a cup of tea?" 

"Thank you, sir." Stunned by the kind gesture, Harry took the offered cup and watched as Snape sat across from him. If he hadn't known what to make of Channon using his first name, he was at a complete loss over Snape being downright cordial. 

_Perhaps this is a trick. Maybe he’s trying to catch me off guard,_ Harry thought as he now looked down at the liquid in the cup with suspicion. 

"It's Chamomile tea, Mr. Potter." Severus said plainly. "I thought it might help us to relax a bit." 

Harry took one small, tentative sip and then waited for some sort of reaction; but nothing happened, so he tried another. 

As Harry worked on trying to relax, Severus was busy gearing up for one of the most challenging undertakings he'd ever faced — apologizing to Harry Potter. 

Severus had stood face to face with Voldemort, practiced Occlumency against him and outright lied to him. He'd killed and committed other atrocities he dare not recall. But to apologize alluded to vulnerability, and that was something Severus adamantly avoided. 

Keeping an eye on the young man before him, Severus waited until Harry had visibly relaxed before proceeding. "Mr. Potter." 

"Yes sir?" _So much for tea,_ Harry thought, _Here we go._

"Before we proceed, I wish to acknowledge my mishandling of these lessons last semester. I admit the impetus driving my egregious endeavors was vicious, but far worse; I was acting upon misguided conceptions of you. I offer you my repentance and assure you that henceforth, my aim toward a positive result will be genuine." 

Bewildered at the volley of words that had just sailed his way, Harry simply stared at his dreaded Potions professor. Although Snape had spoken in circles, it seemed as though he'd just apologized to him.

He sat motionless for a few moments, and then he slowly set down his cup, stood up, walked over to one of the bookcases then leaned against it. 

"Are you unwell, Mr. Potter?" 

_What's going on here?_ Harry wondered, bewildered. _Why did he do that?_ He turned to face Snape. "Why would you apologize to me now, Professor?" 

The apology had been difficult enough. To go into his reasons was not something Severus cared to pursue. "Things have changed," he offered with a slight tip of his head. 

"What things? Not me, I'm the same person I've always been." 

Harry's straightforward words cut through Severus' masquerade. There was no verbal dance to counteract sincerity. Now it was Severus' turn at bewilderment; again, something to which he was not accustomed. Being an accomplished spy, he excelled at ploys, facades and emotional manipulations. He found this entire business of emotional honesty alien, but avoiding it was fast becoming impossible. 

On a personal level, Severus was determined to make amends, but beyond that lay a greater issue, that being the fate of humanity. Harry was one of if not the most powerful wizard alive, and he had been prophesied as being the only one capable of defeating the Dark Lord. But to survive Harry needed to learn Occlumency, and Severus was determined to teach it to him. 

Even so, Severus was no fool. Occlumency and Legilimency were both perilous, yet delicate. To work with a student so powerful would create the distinct possibility of exposing private thoughts and experiences. His solution around this threat the previous semester had been to use the Pensive, but that had been a folly; he could see that now. No, to truly succeed Severus would have to set aside his safeguards and instead venture into that unfamiliar, dangerous realm of emotional honesty. 

"No Mr. Potter, you haven't changed, but I have." Severus rose and walked over to the young wizard. 

"I have been terribly unfair to you these past five years. I used you as a convenient scapegoat for my resentment toward your father, and other personal issues. I regret my actions and I wish to apologize to you. You have no cause to forgive me; to be honest, I wouldn't be surprised if you chose not to do so." 

Harry stared up at his professor. "I want to apologize to you too, Sir." 

Severus actually started at Harry's unexpected response. "Whatever for?" 

"That last lesson, when I broke into your mind, I didn't mean to do it. I've never told anyone what I saw, and I'm sorry it happened, and..." 

Severus raised his hand. "I realize that was an accident." He paused, then lowered his hand and held it out toward Harry. "May we start anew, Mr. Potter?" 

Harry looked down at his professor’s offered hand and thought about everything that had been happening to him lately: the magical surges, Helena helping him gain insight, Dumbledore and now Snape reaching out to him. It was as if his entire life was shifting to take a new course. He knew of the prophecy and of his awaiting destiny. Perhaps, all these things were coming together to help him achieve it. 

Hardly believing he was doing this, he slowly raised his own hand and grasped that of Professor Snape's. 

As he stared at their clasped hands, Harry nodded and whispered, “Okay.” Then he lifted his gaze, allowing his emerald eyes to drift up to meet the ebony ones and the two men looked upon each other as if for the first time.

 

~~~~~SH~~~~~


	9. Discoveries

  
Author's notes: All rights belong to the great JKR and the gang.

* * *

9\. Discoveries 

 

The Fall season settled upon Hogwarts, bringing a chill to the air and shading the trees surrounding the castle in colors of amber and gold. The students had eased into a familiar routine of classes and homework, and the Quidditch season was about to get underway. 

For Gryffindor, Harry's reinstatement to the team alone was cause for celebration; the inhabitants of the tower were filled with eager anticipation as the first match of the season: Gryffindor vs. Slytherin drew near. The pitch was in high demand; rarely was it seen without either full team workouts or individual athletes practicing high over its grassy surface. 

It was Saturday morning, the last weekend in October. Ron had managed to get the morning slot and his team was now halfway into their three hour practice. Positioned all around the pitch, the Chasers and Beaters were executing drills and relays while high above them soared Harry. Anyone watching would have been impressed with his lighting speed and tricky maneuvers, but Harry knew that he was rusty. It had been a long time since he'd done any serious flying, not to mention having competed in only one, solitary game over the past two years. All the same, he was thrilled to be back on his broom and was determined to return to top form. 

He already felt stronger, physically. In his first training period with Channon, the professor had suggested that Harry start jogging one lap around the lake, every morning before breakfast, claiming that it would help release his pent up stress. At first it had been a real struggle, dragging himself out of bed while all his dorm-mates snoozed away, but now he actually looked forward to these runs. 

Additionally, Channon had began teaching Harry an ancient practice of tapping into nature’s energy, then drawing it in and moving it throughout the body. He was amazed the first time he had actually _felt_ this energy and even though Harry was only just now familiarizing himself with this limitless natural energy, Channon knew that once this young, mighty wizard became proficient at combining nature's magic with that of his own, his powers would reach limitless bounds. 

He would often join Harry on these runs, jogging out to the far end of the lake where they would go through the series of movements and then jog on back to the castle. The physical release from the jogging combined with the settling benefits of those movements left him with a feeling of calm. Channon explained that this was the result of Harry “grounding” his own magic to that of the earths. 

The added boon from all this running was that Harry was getting really fit. This morning he'd been working on various maneuvers, practicing them over and over again as he tried to hone his technique. With less than one hour of practice time remaining, Harry decided to work on increasing his speed, but just as he leaned forward over his broom; his scar leveled a particularly painful stab which forced him to stop suddenly and slap a hand to his forehead. 

"You okay up there Harry?" asked Katie Bell. 

"Yeah, I'm fine," he rasped. "It's just my stupid scar." Then he muttered under his breath, "Damn it, why can't he just leave me alone?" He’d barely finished the last word when his head started to ache suddenly. 

Determined not to let the pain end his practice prematurely, Harry leaned forward once more and took off across the pitch as he focused his attention on his speed and line of trajectory; he even tried implementing some of the techniques Channon had taught him. Immediately, the stinging and headache lessened and his speed increased phenomenally so that in a matter of seconds, he'd shot out past the boundaries of the pitch. 

Amazed, Harry pulled up hard and turned around, but when he stopped focusing the burning sting and headache returned with a vengeance. 

"Oh no you don't," he gritted out.

Taking a deep breath, Harry headed back toward the pitch as he tried once again to concentrate on the natural energy around him, drawing it toward him and through him. Once again the pain subsided, and once again when he ceased his efforts — the pain returned. 

_Could this be the answer?_ he thought incredulously. _This is so simple._

Curious, Harry decided to try an experiment. He flew down to the ground and slid off his broom. His headache by now had gotten so bad that he was on the verge of throwing up; but instead of succumbing to the pain, he focused all his concentration on all the natural energy surrounding him and mentally formed it into a shield around him. 

Ron had seen Harry fly to the ground and then walk over to sit in the stand. Worried that something might be wrong, he flew down to join him. "You okay there, mate?" 

Harry raised his hand, silently asking Ron to give him a moment. Maintaining this _shield_ was requiring every bit of effort he could muster. Shortly, the attack ended and Harry leaned back to rest against the bleacher behind him. His breaths were coming in pants as he stared out across the pitch with a look of amazement. "I don't believe it." 

"Don’t believe what? What are you on about?" Ron was really starting to worry. "Are you sure you're all right?" 

Stunned and amazed over his accomplishment, Harry turned to his old friend. "I did it, Ron! I finally did it!" 

"Did what?" Ron was baffled. "What are you talking about?" 

Harry jumped to his feet and then onto his broom. "I've got to go and tell him.”

But Ron lunged and grabbed the end of Harry’s broom before he could take off. “Not until you tell me what the _hell_ is going on!” 

~~~~~ 

With Ron finally appeased, Harry flew up to the castle and reached the potions lab just as two second years were emerging out the door from an apparent detention. Slipping past the teary eyed youths, he quietly entered the room and saw Snape seated at his desk with his forehead resting upon the splayed fingertips of his outstretched hand.

"Merlin give me strength," Harry heard Snape mutter and he wondered dejectedly if this reaction played out after each of his Occlumency lessons. 

They'd met half a dozen times since that first meeting when Snape had laid his cards on the table and asked for a truce. But despite the new methodology, Harry continued to struggle with Occlumency, its principle of barricading one's mind always seemed beyond his grasp. Much to his relief however, Snape had been surprisingly patient and had yet to insult him. Granted, the man was always sarcastic but Harry was beginning to appreciate the dry sense of humor. 

Snape lowered his hand, and then deftly hid his surprise at the sudden appearance of Harry, standing in front of him clad in full Quidditch garb. Raising one brow, he slowly eyed the young wizard up and down. "The Quidditch pitch is _outside_ the castle, Mr. Potter." 

Harry smiled at the snip comment and his eyes all but sparkled with excitement over his news. 

Being on the receiving end of such a genuine expression was a bit unsettling to Severus. Though he would never admit it, he had always been taken with Harry's emerald eyes, finding them attractive if not mesmerizing. Perhaps it was because they reminded him of his old friend Lily, or perhaps it was the simple fact that Harry's eyes were just damned gorgeous; but whatever the reason, the fact that these beautiful eyes were now fixed upon him caused an unanticipated stir in his groin. 

He was immediately annoyed at himself over his unexpected and completely inappropriate reaction. _He is your student,_ Severus reprimanded himself. _The bloody 'Chosen One' and someone entrusted to your tutelage. Get a grip on yourself, you fool._

Thoroughly frustrated with himself and his uncooperative groin, he slapped on his well practiced dead-pan persona and hid his true reaction with a guise of acerbity. "Oh, do let me guess; you couldn't find the snitch and thought it might be lurking in my lab, under some stolen Gillyweed perhaps?" 

Admittedly, that one did hurt. Harry's smile and excited expression vanished from his face. _I was wrong, he hasn't changed. He’s still a greasy git._ "I'm sorry I disturbed you, Professor." Then he turned to leave. 

Severus inwardly kicked himself. He'd been trying so hard to put forth a good effort toward Harry, but sometimes he just couldn't help himself. "No, Mr. Potter, please wait." 

Harry stopped, but didn't turn back. 

"I..." The word caught in his throat; he just couldn't bring himself to utter that unpleasant word, _apologize,_ twice in one month. "My comment was unwarranted. The detention that just ended was a bit wearing. I had no cause to vent my frustrations on you. Please, you seemed quite zealous before my unfortunate remark. Why did you come to see me?" 

Harry stood halfway out the door, vacillating whether or not to try again. His insecurities told him that he was a fool for thinking that Snape would care and that he should high-tail it right back to the pitch, but his formidable tenacity held its ground. 

Harry turned, stepped back into the room and looked Snape straight in the eye. "I did it." 

The little furrow between Severus's brows arrived on cue. "Did what, exactly?" 

Despite a valiant effort, his response came out a bit shaky. "Occlumency." 

A few moments of silence followed Harry’s declaration, and then with a flick of his wand Severus slammed the door closed and erected a silencing ward. "Explain," he demanded. 

Harry told Snape all about the events that had taken place during practice. Then he explained how Professor Jackson had been teaching him about natural energy and that he had tried to visualize it into a shield to protect him from Voldemort's attack. "I know it sounds crazy, but it worked." He finished with a shrug of his shoulders. 

Severus rose from his seat and crossed the room to where Harry stood, his robes swishing with every step. "You claim that instead of closing your mind, you called upon nature’s energy to form a shield _around_ you?" 

"I don't know if that's exactly what happened, but that's how it felt ... Sir." 

The look Harry received from Snape was difficult to describe, but he was certain the professor was about to hex him. 

"Prepare yourself." 

"Excuse me?" 

"I wish to see for myself." 

"Here?" Harry asked incredulously. 

"Of course _here._ Why not here?" 

"But there's no grass, or trees, or anything like that down here." 

Up went the eyebrows. "Your method only works _outside_?" 

"Uh, I don't know, Sir." He felt like a fool and thought he might be blushing. "I suppose I could give it a try." 

Severus released a long, drawn out sigh then again gave the order for Harry to prepare himself. 

"Wait!” Harry quickly put up his hand. “Just give me a second to get ready." 

Although Harry's impertinence annoyed Severus to no end, he was beginning to find this foible just the tiniest bit endearing. He waited in silence, watching as Harry closed his eyes. After a few moments, he opened them. 

"Okay, I'm ready." Harry was staring straight ahead, trying as hard as he could to visualize the natural energy surrounding him. 

Severus raised his wand. "Legilimens." His incantation was delivered gently and he used great care in trying to penetrate the young man's mind. Surprisingly, Harry was able to maintain his _shield_ , marking the first time he'd accomplished this feat. 

Severus ceased his efforts and lowered his wand. "Well done, Mr. Potter." 

Harry's eyes grew wide as saucers. "I did it?" 

Snape nodded his head slightly. 

"I can't believe it. I did it! I really did it!" 

"I wouldn't rest on my laurels just yet, Mr. Potter," he said cooly. 

"What do you mean?" 

“My endeavor was executed with minimal effort. We shall try it again only this time, I will use greater force.” 

"Oh." Harry felt dejected. "Let me just get ready." 

Snape began tapping his wand upon the palm of his hand as he waited for Harry. After receiving the go-ahead, he once again raised his wand and uttered the incantation. 

Harry could feel Snape trying to get in; he focused as hard as he could, trying to maintain the shield. Once again his shield held; it was keeping Snape at bay. If he could just maintain it — hang on for just a bit longer.

But then all of a sudden, _Uncle Vernon was shouting at him, he started falling down the stairs, his aunt was screaming, then his head exploded with pain._

~~~~~ 

"Harry?" Someone was tapping his cheek. "Wake up." 

Harry opened his eyes and squinted at the sight that greeted him. Sitting directly in front of him was Snape with what appeared to be a look of concern on his face. 

"What happened?" But before Snape could even reply, Harry remembered exactly what had happened and he dropped his head into the palm of his hand, mortified. "Oh God." 

"Drink this, it will help." 

Now it seemed as if Snape was touching his shoulder, and he could smell something kind of woody and sweet. "What is it?" He asked with a raspy voice. 

"Ginkgo tea infused with Jasmine." 

Harry took a small sip and then leaned his head back against the chair. 

“Take another sip.” 

He tried sitting up a little straighter and took another sip. After a few moments and a few sips of the tea Harry was able to think more clearly. "I guess my shield didn't work after all." 

Deciding Harry could now manage to hold onto the cup by himself, Severus handed it to him and then moved over to sit in the opposite chair. 

When Harry had collapsed, Severus levitated the unconscious teen into his side room and placed him in one of the large upholstered chairs. Now, sitting across from him, Severus studied Harry from over the top of his peaked fingers as he took a few moments to gather his thoughts. 

"Your shield does not emanate from your surroundings. The barrier I encountered was generated from _within_ you." 

Harry was holding his cup with both hands, keeping it near to his face; it seemed as though even the aroma from the tea was helping to clear his mind. He'd noticed that Snape was calling him “Harry” but right now, he just couldn't seem to muster much of a reaction. Then, what Snape had just said finally registered in his foggy brain. “From _inside_ me? How can that be? I've never been able to do that." 

"Perhaps you have and didn't realize it as such. But you must understand, with true Occlumency the mind is protected from intrusion by means of focused thought. What you did was to create a barrier, a shield if you will, _around_ your mind." 

"You mean like a Shield Charm?" 

"You did not cast a charm." Severus paused and thought about what it was he experienced. "I encountered a..." He took one hand and held it up flat in front of him, "... an actual force of some sort." He lowered his hand. "You mentioned implementing a technique Professor Jackson taught you." 

"Yeah, it’s some sort of ancient Oriental practice." 

Dismissing the vague description, Severus reasoned what the correlation might be. As he did so, he absently started weaving a lock of his hair around his fingers. For some reason this movement rather intrigued Harry. Still a bit dazed, he sat contentedly watching the slick black hair twine around Snape's long fingers. 

"I will speak with Professor Jackson this evening regarding the matter." He noticed that Harry was sitting there, staring at him. “Keep drinking the tea.” 

The baritone voice stirred Harry from his hair twining induced trance, "Yes, sir," and he downed a few more sips of the tea. 

Snape let go of the lock of hair and sat quietly pondering this phenomena while on the other hand, Harry started to think about what Snape had seen when he broke through the shield: his uncle — purple faced and full of rage, Harry being pushed down the stairs, his aunt screaming at the top of her lungs. 

Now the tea didn't seem quite as soothing and in fact, the memories were making him feel downright nauseous. "Sir, I'm sorry you saw all of that." 

Harry's words and tone of voice drew Severus from his musings. The young wizard was staring into the fire with his hand cupped over his mouth and chin. No doubt he was embarrassed at having his dirty laundry aired before his professor. 

Severus thought about a similar event that had occurred in his youth. He never allowed himself to reflect upon those troubling times, but the crushing look of embarrassment and shame on Harry's face drew this memory to the forefront of his mind. They sat watching the fire, lost in their own reflections of regret. Then in a soft voice, Severus uttered a beautiful lilting string of words. 

"L'ho provato sulla mia pella." *

Harry turned his gaze from the soft orange glow of the flames to the ebony eyes of his professor. Snape was looking straight at him; yet at the same time, he seemed to be looking far away and his typical hard set expression had been replaced by a look of sadness. 

"What did you say, Professor?" 

Harry's query pulled Severus from his melancholy. "Did you ask a question?" 

"Sir, you said something ... but it was in some other language. I didn't understand what the words meant." 

Snape nodded slightly and folded his arms across his chest, as if shielding his heart. "The words are Italian. They mean: “I have experienced that on my own skin." 

Harry didn't know if it was the fact that he still felt dazed or that Snape was calling him “Harry,” or maybe it was the tea, but nothing seemed to be making any sense. "I'm sorry sir, I still don't understand." 

Snape gave the smallest of chuckles but then he stopped suddenly and his face sagged with a gloomy expression. "It's a metaphor," he spoke in a downcast voice. "It means is that I have also been scarred in this way and I know exactly what you're going through." 

~~~~~ 

It was now late in the afternoon. The Quidditch practices had finished for the day and the area around the pitch was blessedly quiet. 

Harry had decided to walk back to the changing rooms rather than fly, feeling that he just needed some time to think. His thoughts kept whirling around what Snape had said, I have also been scarred in this way.

_What did he mean by that?_ Harry wondered. _Had Snape's parents been abusive? Maybe that explains why he's the way he is. I wonder if he was beaten, like me. Could I turn out like him, angry at everything and everyone?_

Harry shook his head at the prospect and paused by the large beech tree next to the building that housed the changing rooms. He stood there a few moments just staring at the grass. _He opened up to me. Snape told me something personal about himself. He even called me Harry._

Baffled over this unbelievable event, Harry slowly resumed walking toward the small building and recalled how Snape had stood up abruptly moments after divulging this secret, stated that he needed to attend to another matter and then shooed Harry out of the room.

Completely absorbed in his thoughts, Harry went to grab a hold of the door knob but before he could open it, the door flung open and smacked him in the face, shoving his glasses hard into the bridge of his nose. 

"Ouch!" 

"Merlin Harry, I'm sorry. I didn't know anyone was there." 

"Well, you shouldn't go flinging doors open like that." Harry didn't even know who he was talking to, as he'd removed his spectacles and was cupping his sore nose with his hand, his eyes squinted shut. "Damn it, I hate it when that happens." 

"Here, let me take a look." 

"It's fine." 

"But you're bleeding." 

Harry pulled his hand away and even though everything was a blur, he could see blood on his hand. "Oh great." 

"Come on, let me take a look." 

Lifting his head, he froze when he realized who this person was — Anthony Goldstein. Inches taller than Harry, Anthony had bent over to get a good look at the cut; their faces were now only inches apart. 

"I think I could fix that." 

"You're sure?" 

"Yeah, just hold still." Raising his wand, he incanted "Episky," then tried to survey his handiwork. "I can't see anything for all this blood." He cast another charm to siphon off the blood and was now able to see where the cut had been. "That looks good; how does it feel?" 

Harry gingerly touched the bridge of his nose. "It's okay, thanks." He went to put his glasses on, only to discover that they were now bent. "God damn it." 

"What?" 

Exasperated, he pulled off the bent glasses. "It's a Muggle saying," he huffed. "Now what am I going to do?" 

"Come on, you get changed and I'll fix your glasses; they’re just bent a little here in the middle." Anthony led the nearsighted teen into the locker room and went about trying to repair the spectacles as Harry got changed out of his Quidditch robes. He’d only just pulled on his jeans when Anthony handed him the glasses. 

"Give them a try now." 

Harry put on his newly repaired spectacles and looked about the room, "I think you did it." 

"Good," sighed Anthony. "Look, I'm really sorry." He watched as Harry pulled on a T- shirt and then sat down next to him. 

"It was just as much my fault. I was thinking about some stuff and not paying attention to where I was going." He sighed and stared off across the empty room. 

"Something wrong?" 

Chuckling, "When _isn't_ something wrong." 

Anthony placed a tentative hand on Harry's shoulder, "Do you want to talk about it?" 

Harry didn't know what surprised him more, Anthony's hand on his shoulder or the fact that it felt kind of nice. "I can't." 

Withdrawing his hand, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry." 

"I didn't mean it like that." Harry turned to face Anthony; the movement inadvertently caused his knee to push against the outside of Anthony's thigh. "I really wish I could ... you know, talk about it, but I can't." Feeling awkward about what his knee was touching, he moved back his leg but then Anthony turned, so that now his knee was pressing against Harry's thigh. 

"Well, if you ever do need someone to talk to, I'm ... available." 

Harry sat staring at the Quidditch gear laden cubicles in front of him with that word 'available' ringing in his ears. 

So much had happened in such a short period of time. The feeling of Anthony's knee pressing against him was unsettling, yet at the same time it felt reassuring. “Thanks Anthony," he answered softly. Once again Harry's mind was whirling. In addition to all that had happened on the pitch that morning, then the Occlumency fiasco, Snape being nice to him and even sharing something that was obviously personal and private, calling him 'Harry' no less and now this encounter with Anthony — Well, it was all a bit much to take in. 

"Come on, Harry. It's time for dinner and you look like you could use a good meal." 

The two teens strolled slowly back up to the castle. Harry shared a little bit about what he had learned from Jackson and how the Professor was helping him get a handle on his episodes of wild magic. They chatted about classes and the upcoming Quidditch matches. Talking to Anthony was so different from talking to Ron or Hermione, or any of his other friends. He'd never really spent time with Anthony but had often noticed him from a distance.

Anthony Goldstein reminded Harry of Cedric: tall, good looking, popular and he excelled in all his classes. Harry couldn't understand why someone like that would want to spend time with him. But he did know that as he walked next to him, Harry felt — something. Maybe it had to do with all that aura business Channon was always talking about and he wondered if one person's aura could connect with another person's aura. He'd ask Channon about it the next morning during their jog. 

As they walked along, Anthony could sense Harry's preoccupation so he intentionally kept the conversation light. Truth was, ever since he'd acknowledged and had come to terms with his sexual preferences, he'd had an eye for this dark haired, green eyed wizard. So unlike himself, Harry had this spirited, dauntless quality and despite his impressive magical powers, there was a vulnerable side to him that Anthony found endearing. He'd wondered about Harry, never seeing him with any girlfriends except for that brief awkward fling with Cho. So with the serendipity of this afternoon's run in, Anthony had decided to test the waters and was optimistic by the outcome. Not sure where Harry was with his own self discovery, Anthony thought it best to take things slow. 

"You know Harry; I was going to do some studying in the library tomorrow. Want to join me?" 

Tomorrow being Sunday, Harry had planned to camp on the floor of the Gryffindor common room and try to plow through his mountain of homework. The prospect of Anthony and a quiet library sounded infinitely more appealing. "Sure. I have a ton of homework. What time do you want to get together?" 

"How about just after breakfast?" 

"Okay, sounds good." Harry wasn't sure why, but he suddenly felt a bit giddy. They stopped just before reaching the doors to the Great Hall, out of sight to all those already inside eating dinner. Not sure how to handle things, Harry tentatively looked up toward those hazel eyes. 

Anthony smiled, "You go in first. I'll wait here a minute, then go in." 

It had been so nice being near Anthony; Harry found he really didn't want to leave his side. "Guess I'll see you tomorrow." Then he turned and slipped into the hall. 

Anthony watched Harry disappear around the corner; then he smiled and whispered, "Bye, Harry." 

 

~~~~~  
Author’s notes:  
* This Italian metaphor was lifted from the book: Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert, tale 24.


	10. Personal Matters

  
Author's notes: I am out of town tomorrow (Friday), so we worked really hard to get this chapter ready one day early. Yes, I did say we. I have a new Beta and she is FANTASTIC. Thank you Steppenwolf for taking me on.  
Last week I said that chapter 10 would be 'The Return'. Well, chapter 10 got so big, that I decided to split it in half. So this week it's Personal Matters, and next Friday will be The Return. Hope you enjoy this one, and again- thank you Steppenwolf!!!   


* * *

10\. Personal Matters 

 

"Merlin, you're fuckin my... rrgghh... ass off." 

"I don't... pay you... for conversation," Severus ground out as he slammed himself into the attractive young man beneath him. 

"I'm not...ah... complaining, mind you. Just... oh yeah, there… don't move…" Continuing after a moment, "What's gotten into ya?" 

"Nor do I... pay you to ask... questions." Severus gripped tightly onto the sinuous arms of his prostitute, growling as he climaxed. His orgasm came hard; and as it subsided, he milked it as long as he could, pumping out every last drop. 

He'd needed this release; needed some way of clearing away the feelings of trepidation that had been building up for days, a sense that his personal demons were trying to break free. These were echoes of past personal traumas which he’d locked away deep in his soul long ago. They may have been imprisoned, but these scars inked their bitter presence upon the grown man via acerbity, distrust and a need for personal isolation. 

It was his recent work with Harry that was causing the problem; this business of emotional honesty and the growing realization of their common turbulent childhoods; it all gave fodder to the rising dome of these old-time foes, pulling them up from their tomb. He didn't want to face them, he simply couldn't. His tactic of avoidance had been to dole out acrimony and insults upon those he encountered but now it wasn't working, and neither was brewing potions late into the night until he was ready to drop. He had nowhere else to go, and no one else to whom he could turn. 

"Oh baby, you've been gone way too long. Why have you stayed away? I'm always here for you... you know that." 

Spent, Severus took a moment to catch his breath. "Don't call me... baby." He drew a couple more breaths and then slid off the bed. 

"You're not leaving... are you? Come on, you can have me the entire night." 

Severus made his way the bathroom and was now splashing water on his face. He always wore a glamour when conducting such affairs and never divulged his name. "I cannot stay." 

"Well, in that case; as much as I love this scenario when you're fucking me, I don't much care to stay bound if you're leaving." 

Severus walked slowly back to the bed, looking down at the comely prostitute lying naked and bound. Taking his time, he fastened each and every button of his frock and robe— one by one, then finally raised his wand, "Finite." 

Now free of the magical bonds, the rent boy sat up and began rearranging the pillows. "You're a real charmer; you know that don't you," he teased as he reached for a cigarette and lighter. 

Severus moved toward the door and tossed the customary fee on the sideboard. 

"Oh no baby, don't leave. We'll have a drink and a smoke, then go at it again." 

Annoyed at the endearment, Severus ground his teeth and grasped the door knob. He could easily justify staying here with this talented hooker, the diversion would be a distraction and postpone the return to his empty quarters, where reality would yet again lay its trump card on the proverbial table. "I cannot stay," his voice was uncharacteristically shaky. 

"When will I see you again?" 

Without answering, Severus opened the door and quietly slipped out of the dingy room. 

~~~~~ 

Leaning against the tiled wall of the shower, Harry melted under the spray of hot water that pummeled his aching shoulders and back. Methodically stroking himself, he took his time coming, hoping that the hot water and orgasm might help him unwind after another long day. 

It was so late and he needed to get to bed, for tomorrow's agenda would be just as full as this day's had been. Reluctantly he finished off then quietly padded back to his dorm room. These late nights were occurring more frequently, the aftermath of the evenings when Harry was scheduled to work with either Channon or Snape, and where upon returning to the tower there was always a pile of homework awaiting his attention. It wasn't unusual these days for Harry to fall into bed well after midnight. 

All his dorm mates were sound asleep when he slipped into the room, and even though his body was tired from this evening's workout with Channon, his mind just wouldn't shut down. He crawled up onto the windowsill by his bed and leaned his forehead against the cool glass to stare out at the stars. He was frustrated with the inconsistencies of his spell work and Occlumency, not to mention the ongoing episodes of wild magic. Granted, the physical exercise and Qi Gong were helping; but still, out of nowhere these enormous bursts of magic would surge through him and out of him. 

Then his thoughts moved on to Anthony. He couldn't stop thinking about Anthony, about every _part_ of Anthony. _How did this happen?,_ he pondered for the umpteenth time just when it was that he'd started preferring boys over girls. If he really thought about it, he supposed the first people he'd ever noticed were Cedric and Cho. She was always so pretty, but Cedric was awesome: tall, good looking, confident. Harry could still remember the first time he met Cedric, when they were all going to the Quidditch finals. That made Harry think about the Tri-Wizard Tournament, then the graveyard, Fifth year, Sirius. 

_Stop it, stop it, stop it,_ he thought to himself. _That's in the past, you can't change any of it._

Harry sighed, closed his eyes and tried to think about _now_ , about how everything was so different _now,_ how Dumbledore and Snape had changed, and about the new people in his life: Helena and Anthony. A little smile crept across his mouth and he touched his lips, thinking about their time together. 

It happened only a couple of days ago, when he and Anthony were on one of their walks. They'd been doing a lot of that the past couple of weeks— walking, talking and touching. Anthony wanted to know everything about Harry, and Harry wanted to know everything about Anthony. On Wednesday, after Herbology, they'd decided to take a walk before heading back up to the castle and were just passing the greenhouses when Anthony suddenly took Harry by the arm. 

_"Come here a minute."_

_No one was around as they slipped inside the potting shed and Anthony gently pinned Harry against the wall. Pressed against each other, they could feel each other's hard young torsos. Anthony was actually trembling; but they looked into each other's eyes and knew that this felt right._

_"Harry, I... could I..."_

_Harry solved Anthony's dilemma by stretching up, leaning in close and nodding his head ever so slightly._

_With infinite care Anthony embraced and held Harry's lips with his own. The kiss was gentle and sweet. He didn't want to rush Harry, knowing that this was his first time with a boy. Then letting go, Anthony looked down just in time to see Harry's long lashes sweep upward._

_They stood there looking into each other's eyes, holding each other, feeling each other's hardness. They started to kiss again, but this time the kiss deepened as Anthony pulled Harry up to him. Their strong arms wrapped around each other, holding their bodies close. This closeness quickly led to urgency, a need to consume; but Anthony stopped the kiss and pulled back just enough so that only their lips touched. Harry looked up, not knowing why the kiss had stopped._

_"Are you all right?" Anthony asked. He wanted to make sure that Harry was okay with all of this, and the desperate look in those emerald eyes told him that he was._

_Closing his eyes Anthony began to kiss Harry again, only this time it was slow. He took his time, gently kissing his way all around those pink lips and every so often he'd slip his tongue inside for a tantalizing brush._

_Harry had never French kissed before and had always been a little nervous about the whole idea, but what Anthony was doing with his tongue was soon driving Harry crazy. He found he wanted that tongue to stay longer. So the next time Anthony entered with his tongue, Harry welcomed it with his own— so Anthony stayed._

_They began exploring each other's mouths and felt each other grow even harder. Amidst all this passion, Anthony managed to also tease and play with Harry, using the tip of his tongue to tickle a molar, or reach his hand inside Harry's front jean pocket to gently take hold of him— which made Harry giggle. The way Anthony varied the intensity of what they were doing, sometimes amazingly passionate then lightening everything, being gentle and playful— it all made Harry feel relaxed and safe._

_When Anthony revved things up again, this time he didn't stop and their need and want grew as they began to rub and pump against each other. They held each other tightly as they both climaxed quickly, and when it ended they leaned against the wall— absolutely spent._

_"You okay there, Harry?"_

_"Yeah." He looked down. "Bit of a mess."_

_Anthony looked down and giggled. "Yeah. Here, I'll take care of it." He quickly removed the evidence of the frottage with just a couple of charms._

_Harry was trying to think of some way to tell Anthony what he was feeling: how incredible that had been, how safe Anthony had made him feel, how he didn't know coming could feel like that— when from out of nowhere, the sound of Professor Sprout's voice cut the air._

_"I have them right here for you Severus." She was clunking along the wooden floor of the forth greenhouse._

_"Cut them myself for you just this morning." The sound of her heavy steps was now followed by ones that were softer and evenly timed. "Let's see now, where did I put them?" A few clunking steps, a pause, then some more, "Oh, now I remember... I put them in the potting shed for safe-keeping."_

_Stunned, Anthony and Harry's dreamy state disappeared and became one of sheer panic. They looked at each other and simultaneously, silently mouthed the words— Oh fuck!_

_Harry grabbed Anthony's hand and dragged him post haste to behind the shed door. Standing flat against the wall, they pulled the door in front of them for cover._

_The matronly witch gave the door a shove as she entered the shed. Anthony grabbed the handle when the door bounced against them, and held it in place._

_"Oh yes, here they are. A particularly fine crop we had this year." Then they heard the sound of Snape stepping up to the doorway._

_By now, Harry had shifted into whatever it could be called, his own version of Occlumency. Taking steady breaths, he closed his eyes and gently formed his shield. Snape was so accustomed to entering Harry's mind now; he feared that just being in the vicinity of the professor would be enough to alert him of his presence._

_"See Severus, they're absolutely magnificent."_

_"We are discussing Abyssinian Shrivelfigs, are we not Pamona?"_

_"Yes, but Severus— just look at them."_

_"Ah yes," he placated the old witch, "truly stupendous."_

_The two teens, their hearts pounding, listened as professors Sprout and Snape walked back into the greenhouse. Not daring to move a muscle, they waited and listened as the voices and footsteps move off and all became silent._

_Slowly, Anthony and Harry crept out from their hiding place and cautiously peered around the corner. The greenhouse was indeed empty, the door leading outside was closed, and they were once again alone._

_They fell against each other, and then broke out in laughter._

_"Oh my God, (Anthony had started using some of Harry's Muggle phrases) I can't believe that happened."_

_"I can't believe we didn't get caught," added Harry. "My shied thing must really be getting better. I thought for sure we were goners."_

_"What do you mean— goners? What does that mean? Really Harry, you're dead cute, but you do speak a different language."_

_"Come on, we better get back. I'll explain it on the way."_

Harry smiled and sighed. Feeling infinitely content, he knew he'd be able to sleep now. He was just about to slide off the sill and go to bed when a movement outside caught his eye. 

Someone just passed though the front gates and was now walking across the wide expanse of lawn leading up to the castle. 

_It's Snape_ , Harry realized. _What's he doing out there so late. I wonder if he was summoned. But my scar didn't hurt tonight..._ Harry thought as fast as his tired mind would permit, _Could Voldemort be back?_ He had half a notion of running down to ask his professor what was going on, but then thought the wiser. He watched as Snape ascended the steps, and then disappeared through the front doors. 

Sliding off the sill, Harry tip-toed over to his bed, crawled under the covers and let his head sink onto the pillow. With thoughts of kissing Anthony and wondering where Snape had been, Harry closed his eyes and soon he drifted off to sleep. 

~~~~~ 

The commotion of the breakfast hour echoed throughout the Great Hall with sounds of cutlery against plates, students and teachers chatting, all coupled with the scraping of benches against stone. 

Harry sat munching a piece of buttered toast while reading his textbook: Negative Magic for Positive Means. Ensconced in his book, he'd managed to drown out the din around him, until the misplaced sound of subtle voices caught his attention. Sliding his gaze up from the text, he saw Hermione intently surveying a tear in the sleeve of Ron's robe; but it was the _way_ she was doing it, that held his attention. She had one hand resting on Ron's forearm, while the other hand meticulously inspected the loose threads of the hole, her inspecting fingers occasionally slipping below the level of the fabric. 

As Harry watched the pair inspect the intricacies of this hole in Ron's sleeve, he started thinking about Anthony and all the touching they'd been doing lately. He drew a sudden deep breath and looked about the room, trying to chase away the heady thoughts. _Knock it off Potter, or you'll wind up with a bloody hard on._

Just then, the post owls flew into the hall. 

_Thank Merlin,_ thought Harry, and then proceeded to pour himself a rare cup of coffee. 

Only moments later, sounds of shock and concern began sounding around the hall. Hermione had only just started scanning the first page of the Prophet when she gasped, "Oh no." 

"What?" asked Ron and Harry simultaneously. 

"An orphanage in London collapsed. Everyone in the building..." She laid the newspaper down and stared straight ahead. 

"Hermione!" Ron was about to grab for the paper. "Tell us what's happened." 

She looked at them with an expression of shock and sadness. "Everyone in the building... they all died." 

"Let me see that." Ron grabbed the paper and began to read aloud; everyone in the vicinity listened as he read the horrible news. 

Harry snapped his attention to the Head Table, to see who was present and who was not. Dumbledore, Channon and Snape were all missing. The memory of Snape returning to the castle late last night suddenly flashed through his mind. 

_I wonder if Voldemort had something to do with that orphanage collapsing?_ With all this commotion, Harry didn't notice the rather small Tawny swoop down in front of him. Upon turning back, he saw a letter sitting atop his toast and actually startled when he read the name of the sender. 

Everyone around him was still focused on Ron as he read the article, so Harry was able to discreetly slide the post into his book bag unobserved. Sitting back up, he urgently scanned the Ravenclaw table for Anthony. There he was, doing the same thing as Ron. His housemates were crowded all around him, listening as he read the distressing article. 

Then it started, that sort of panicky feeling. He'd come to learn that this always preceded one of his bursts of magic; and just to know it was about to happen, when he was around so many people, was enough to make him panic even further. He had to leave the hall and he had to leave it _now,_ before his wild magic got away from him. 

"I'll catch up with you later," he quickly said to Hermione. She acknowledged his words with a quick nod, and then returned her focus to the article about the orphanage. 

Snatching up his bag, he quickly headed out of the Great Hall but paused just outside the doors. _Outside? Inside?_ Deciding there would be less of a chance to encounter or affect anyone outside, he exited the castle and quickly crossed the courtyard. 

Ducking behind a massive Yew, Harry dropped his bag to the ground and grabbed onto two of the thick branches. There was no way to stop the surge from happening, but he could try to lessen its intensity. He began drawing deep, steady breaths and mentally visualized grounding himself to the earth. 

An intense prickling sensation swept through his entire body. The surge lasted only seconds, and when it subsided Harry was left completely winded. He leaned against the thick conifer and tried to catch his breath. Looking around, he realized that the huge plant was covered with bright light green, new growth, and that the grass all around him was inches taller. 

The chimes sounded, indicating the start of classes. Even though he was still a bit shaky and winded, he had no choice. Reaching down for his book bag, he slung it over his shoulder and headed wearily back into the castle. 

~~~~~ 

Turning his head, Severus allowed his hair to fall forward, curtaining his attempt to stifle a yawn. The predawn summons from Albus had been particularly jarring after that late night tryst, affording him only a couple hours of sleep. Now well past sunrise, he and select members of the Order were still in the Headmaster's office discussing the collapse of the orphanage in London. 

The fact that this orphanage was the same one where Tom Riddle was born and spent his early childhood had warranted this emergency meeting of the Order. 

With his position as liaison between the Ministry and the Muggle British authorities, Kingsley Shacklebolt had been one of the first wizards on the scene and had immediately requested Auror backup. Only having just arrived from the devastating scene, he immediately gave his report. 

"You are quite certain?" asked Albus. 

Kingsley's cello voice rumbled through the room. "Yes Dumbledore. We searched the entire area for evidence of Death Eater activity, and found nothing." 

The old wizard looked over to Severus once again. "And you felt nothing?" 

"Do you think I am withholding information?" he asked sharply. 

"Of course not, Severus." 

"I would have noticed if the mark had burned." Severus was definitely out of sorts this morning. 

"Exactly, my old friend. That is why I am concerned..." 

"So am I," interrupted the spy. "Either this disaster was a coincidence, or the Dark Lord has discovered my true allegiance." 

"The Muggles believe the explosion and collapse of the building resulted from a build up of gas in pipes. It was an old building..." Arthur continued to relay the mechanics of such a possibility, when a slight tremor occurred. It lasted only seconds and went unnoticed by most of the wizards and witches in attendance; all except for Albus, Severus and Channon. 

The three men immediately recognized the signature of this disturbance, and exchanged worried glances. 

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Excuse me, Arthur." 

Surprised, the redhead stopped mid-sentence. "Yes, Albus?" 

"Classes are about to begin." He turned to face Severus and Channon. "Gentlemen?" 

Taking their cue, the two wizards left the office to go check on Harry. 

~~~~~ 

"It didn't feel as if he was inside the castle," commented Channon. They had reached the bottom of the spiral staircase just as the chime sounded for classes. "We really do need to set up a means of keeping track of him; perhaps if Dumbledore assigned all the portraits to keep an eye out for him. Really Severus, how else can we know if he's been injured or some damage has occurred?" 

"There is already a way of knowing." Severus stopped in his tracks and called out, "Dobby." 

"What?" 

"Not what, but who." Just then, the small house-elf apparated before the two professors. 

"Yes professor, Dobby is here." He was so short and they were so tall that he only managed to reach the height of their knees. 

"Where is Mr. Potter?" 

"Oh sir, Dobby is seeing Harry Potter out by the front courtyard, but when Dobby is coming to see you, Harry Potter is coming back inside." 

"Was there any damage?" 

Dobby quirked his face while trying to decide if tall grass and an old shrub growing inches was considered damage. 

"Was he injured?" asked Channon. 

Again, Dobby quirked his face. 

"Was Harry injured?" Severus repeated Channon's question but with more emphasis. 

"Oh sir, Dobby is thinking that Harry Potter is very white." 

Channon stared at Dobby, not sure what to make of him. 

"That will be all," Severus dismissed the elf whom in turn Disapparated immediately. The sound of hundreds of students ascending the stairs drifted up to their location on the seventh floor. 

"White?" Channon asked. 

"I would assume he meant pale." 

"I have sixth year Defense now. I'll go check on him." Channon made to hurry down the steps, but paused and turned back. "What's your gut feeling about last night?" 

Severus glanced down at the sea of rising students; they were still at least two floors below. "You heard Shacklebolt. If it was the Dark Lord, he acted alone. I will only know for certain once I have been summoned." 

Channon shook his head. "I don't know how you do it, Severus." 

Severus didn't reply, but only nodded his head in acknowledgement. "We'd best be getting to our students." 

~~~~~ 

Hermione walked toward the very back of the library. Looking around the last bookcase, she saw Anthony sitting at the usual table in the corner, but was surprised to see that he was alone. 

"He's not here?" she whispered. 

Anthony shrugged his shoulders. "Nope." 

She sat down next to him and spoke in a soft voice, so as not to be heard. "I thought he'd be here." 

"He's been acting weird all day," Anthony replied, laying down his book. "Hermione, do you know if maybe he knew someone at that orphanage?" 

She shook her head. "No, I'm certain he didn't." 

Just then, _he_ walked up from behind and touched them both on the shoulders. 

"Harry! Where have you been?" 

"Budge over." 

Hermione moved over to make room for Harry to sit down between the two of them. 

"Where's Ron?" Harry asked while covertly taking hold of Anthony's hand under the table. 

"Remember, he has that detention with Madame Hooch," she responded in a huff. "Merlin's sake, why can't he learn to control himself." 

"Oh yeah," Harry did indeed remember the crude gesture Ron gave to one of Ravenclaw's Beaters during their last game. 

"Anyway, what's going on?" she continued. 

Harry reached into his bag, pulled out the letter and tossed it onto the table. Hermione's eyes grew to saucer proportions. While she grabbed the letter and began to read it, Harry leaned into Anthony and whispered in his ear, "It's a long story I haven't told you yet." 

Anthony turned so that his cheek touched Harry's.”Are you okay?" 

He could feel Harry shake his head— no. 

Hermione gasped. "Oh that... how can he be so... impersonal?" 

"May I read it?" asked Anthony, his calm voice a stark contrast to Hermione's hissing tone. 

Reaching across the front of Harry, Hermione handed the letter to Anthony, who in turn squeezed Harry hand as he began to read. 

 

_Dear Harry,  
My apologies for not having written sooner. I've been busy with duties for the Old Crowd. I can't say much about that, but I was curious how you were doing after the events of last June. I know all of that must have been hard on you, and I hope you have been able to put it behind you.   
I don't know what else to say.   
My sincere wishes for a successful school year,   
Remus_

 

Anthony turned to look at his friend. Harry was staring at the table; the expression on his face was as hard as that of the wood. 

"Hermione, would you excuse us?" 

"Sure." She leaned over and gave Harry a peck on the cheek. "I'll see you two later." 

After she left, Anthony whispered in Harry's ear, "Can you tell me about this business with Remus?" 

Harry nodded his head. "Yeah, but not here." 

"No, not here. Come on, let's go for a walk. I want to hold you for a while, and then you tell me when you're ready." 

~~~~~ 

Severus's quill flew down the right side of the parchment, leaving a trail of red colored comments in its wake. Assigning a grade of 'T' at the top, he set the test aside and started on the next. 

He was nearly at his wit’s end. There were piles of tests and assignments to grade; he’d been preoccupied all day with the collapse of the orphanage, adding to that the ongoing self-reprimands for his escapade the previous night, and to top off all of that— he had another session with Harry in just a few minutes. 

He was about to cast a Tempus when he heard the knock at his door. 

"Come," he snapped. 

Harry startled at the tone of Snape's voice. _Oh, oh._ Opening the door, he hesitantly entered the office. 

"Put your things down, Mr. Potter," Snape ordered without looking up from the test he was now correcting, "then take a stand in the middle of the room." 

Harry was either _Harry_ or _Mr. Potter,_ according to what kind of mood Snape was in. Harry hadn't brought anything with him, so he just moved forward to the middle of the room, and stood as quietly as possible. He'd wanted to ask Snape if he knew anything about the orphanage, but now wasn't so sure if that was wise. 

Scribbling the grade at the top of the test with a particular flourish, Snape set it aside and tossed his quill onto the desk. Taking a moment, he tried to settle himself. It wouldn't benefit either of them if he started venting his current frustrations on Harry. Standing up, he moved around to the front of his desk and drew his wand. "Are you ready?" 

_I must be nuts,_ Harry thought, _but here it goes._ ”Sir?" 

"What." 

"Sir, do you know if Voldemort is back?" 

"Don't say his name!" 

"Sorry, sir." 

"Why are you asking?" 

"I just thought that since you came back so late last night, that maybe..." 

Severus almost had a coronary. "What I do and where I go are none of your concern... Potter." 

Harry really knew he'd done it that time. He hadn't been just _Potter_ all term. 

"I don't have much time tonight. Have you been practicing your shield?" 

Immediately the incident in the potting shed flashed through his mind. "Uh, yes sir." 

"Very well, let's proceed." 

Severus raised his wand, but before he could say the incantation, the Dark Mark on his arm erupted in a burning pain so severe, he pulled his arm in tight and doubled over. 

"Sir!" Harry rushed to Snape's side, trying to help him stay upright. 

"I don't need your help, Potter," he snapped. 

"Sir, what's wrong? Shall I get Madame Pomfrey?" 

Snape stood there agape, staring at Harry in amazement. "Get out of my way. I have to go." 

"Sir?" Harry was at a loss to understand what was happening. He'd never seen what Snape went through when he was summoned. 

"I said, get out of my way. I cannot be late." 

And then the reality of what was happening struck Harry like a sledge hammer. "Oh no, sir, don't go... Please don't go. I've seen what happens when he calls you. Please don't go, sir." 

Severus couldn't understand Harry's concern. No one had ever worried about him or cared for his welfare. "I have to go; this is my job." He struggled to stand upright, and then moved toward the door. 

"Can I help you, sir?" 

Snape was moving out the door as he spoke. "Get my cloak; it's over there," he said, nodding toward the closet. He was halfway down the corridor by the time Harry caught up to him. 

Harry tried as best he could to get the cloak over Snape's shoulders, as he wouldn't stop walking. 

"Now, go tell Dumbledore what has happened," Snape ordered as he struggled up the stairs. He couldn't believe how severely the mark was burning; it had never been this bad. Then he realized that Harry was actually holding onto him, helping him up the stairs. Well, he'd have to reprimand him for touching a professor later, when time permitted. "Tell him, I'll report in as soon as I return." 

When they reached the top of the stairs, they could see a couple of students filtering across the entry hall. Snape looked down at Harry and shook his head _no_ , so Harry let go and stepped away. Snape saw that those beautiful green eyes looking back up at him were full of worry and concern, but then suddenly— he noticed Harry's lips, and realized that he'd recently been kissed, and quite thoroughly by the looks of things. His lips were swollen and just a slightly deeper shade of pink than usual. 

_What is wrong with me?_ Severus mentally reprimanded himself for losing focus; then gripping the handrail for support, he girded himself to the matter at hand. 

"Listen to me, Harry. I'll be all right. Now go and tell the Headmaster what has happened." He nodded his head toward the Great Staircase. 

Harry held his ground, and silently mouthed the words, _Please don't go._. 

All this genuine concern that Harry was lavishing on him was not what Severus needed at this point in time. He was on his way to meet with the Dark Lord and so needed to stay focused and impassive. Closing himself off, he leveled a flat, hard stare down at the worried teen and whispered, "Go, now." 

With great reluctance Harry slowly crossed the entry hall and started to ascend the staircase. About halfway up, he paused and turned around just in time to see Snape exit the castle. 

 

~~~~~


	11. The Return

  
Author's notes: Here we go folks. Fasten your seatbelts.  
All rights belong to JKR, WB, Scholastic, Bloomsbury and anyone else I forgot to mention.  
Thanks to my beta, Steppenwolf. You're simply brilliant.  


* * *

11\. The Return

 

Severus guarded his arm tightly to him as he stoically made his way towards the front gates of the castle; the memory of Harry's worried green eyes haunted his every step. Knowing the summons would direct him to the waiting Dark Lord, he pushed these thoughts to the back of his mind, walked beyond the wards and Apparated away from Hogwarts. 

He arrived in the center of a large foyer in what was probably a manor. Noting the ample use of marble and intricate woodwork, it was apparent that this place had been a grand place in its day; but the current lack of repair and stagnant air spoke of dormancy, as though this building had stood empty for a long time. 

Severus was greeted, for lack of a better word, by Peter Pettigrew and was directed to his left where he quietly slipped through the doorway and entered a drawing room of vast proportions; it was empty save for a dais with an ornately carved gilded chair placed in its center upon which sat the Dark Lord. 

Amazingly, only a handful of other Death Eaters had already arrived; they were all on their knees with their heads bowed, facing in the direction of their Lord. Severus bowed deeply and then fell into ranks along with the others. When all had arrived, Voldemort stood to begin his address. 

The speech was reminiscent of the one he had delivered at the graveyard in Little Hangleton two years previous. He offered no details about where he had been the past few months but he did share an overview of his current ambitions, after which he began holding private conversations with each of the higher ranking officers. 

They were instructed to wait in the main drawing room until their mark burned, at which time they would report to the sitting room where these councils were being held. It was well past midnight; Severus had watched as all the others were summoned and was now the last one remaining. Finally, his mark burned. 

Upon entering the room he glanced only high enough to get his bearings. 

"Come in Severus." 

Keeping his head bowed and his Occlumency in high gear, Severus entered the room and sank to his knees before the Dark Lord. 

"My Lord." 

Severus was the epitome of supplication as he listened to Voldemort offer a few kind remarks and then request updates regarding the activities of the Order and of Dumbledore. 

The spy had only tidbits of information to deliver, as things had been fairly quiet — up until the previous night with the bombing of the orphanage. He relayed how the Ministry had sent officials to investigate the scene but that they had found no evidence of Death Eater involvement and had determined that the collapse had been an unfortunate accident. 

Severus, who was still staring at the carpet, could not see the Dark Lord’s reaction to any of this news. 

"Very good,” Voldemort strolled about the room. “And now my dear Severus, tell me of … Harry Potter. 

"I can report my Lord, that the boy has been recently experiencing magical surges." 

Voldemort actually gasped. "He has? Very interesting … Very interesting indeed." 

Severus heard the Dark Lord’s steps come nearer as he approached the dais. 

"And what is Dumbledore doing about these … surges." 

Having not heard the Dark Lord speak in many months, Severus took note of the manner in which he caressed each word, inflecting his voice up and down as he traveled across a sentence, always lingering upon any word that ended in an s. 

Severus relayed the identity of one Channon Jackson and how Dumbledore had brought him to Hogwarts with the express purpose of working with Potter. He also added the fact that the Chosen One and the new professor had developed a friendship. 

"Oh this is delicious. I knew I wanted you last, Severus. You are always the icing on my cake." 

Voldemort then gave the potion master his assignment to start brewing fresh batches of potions, elixirs and draughts, and to immediately relay any and all occurrences of import having to do with Dumbledore, the Order and of course — Harry Potter. 

"Yes, my Lord." 

"Speaking of whom, how has Harry's health been this year?" 

"His health, my Lord?" 

"Yes, his health." 

It was times like this that Severus's quick mind was put to the test. He knew the Dark Lord was fishing and that he had to deliver. The challenge was to provide just enough information to satisfy, but withhold that which could prove dangerous. He had to do all of this whilst he Occluded before one of, if not the most highly skilled Legilimens. 

"Except for the times my Lord engages the boy; he is otherwise in good health." 

"Tell me exactly what happens when I… _engage him."_

"He experiences headaches and discomfort around the area of his scar." 

"Hmmm." 

Now Severus heard the rustle of robes as the Dark Lord resumed his seat. 

"One more item before I dismiss you." 

Severus waited in silence. 

Will the school be holding their traditional Halloween feast this Saturday?" 

"Yes, my Lord." 

"And Dumbledore will be there?" 

"Yes, my Lord?" Severus's acknowledgement sounded more like a question. 

"I must admit Severus, you are the last one this evening to receive my news. I am planning some exciting events to take place on Samhain." 

Voldemort walked over to stand before the spy and placed one finger under Severus's chin, encouraging him to look up. 

The Dark Lord spoke softly and slowly. 

"I have a special task for you. Tell that old fool for me; tell him to post Aurors wherever he thinks I might strike. Also, tell him that I am planning a surprise ... just for him. Then, at the feast on Samhain, you will watch him so that you can later tell me of his reaction." 

"His reaction to what, my Lord?" 

"Oh but Severus, if I told you … it wouldn't be a surprise." 

~~~~~SH~~~~~ 

Harry sat in the windowsill by his bed, waiting and watching for Snape's return. Still at his post, he wound up falling asleep around two o'clock and woke up the next morning with an aching back. 

Severus had returned from his meeting with Voldemort relatively unscathed, all except for his sore knees, and immediately met with Dumbledore to relay the Dark Lord’s message. 

The old wizard knew immediately that his former pupil was toying with him, but what could he do other than to play along?

He contacted the Ministry and the Order, warning them that Voldemort was planning attacks on Samhain. Not knowing where he would strike, all that could be done was to have every Auror and member of the Order on alert, ready to respond at a moment's notice. But Voldemort's talk of a surprise and his request that Severus watch Dumbledore had him puzzled. 

~~~~~SH~~~~~ 

On the eve of Halloween, Anthony was conducting his Prefect's rounds and had timed his route so that he could intercept Harry coming up from his Occlumency lesson. 

His friend had been quiet and pensive the last couple of days and Anthony was determined to find out what was wrong. 

Reaching the sixth floor, Harry had just made the turn to start up the next flight of stairs when Anthony stepped out from a nearby alcove, waving the young wizard over to him. 

Surprised and delighted, Harry looked about to make certain no one was around and then hurried over to his boyfriend. 

"Where did you come from?" 

"I was just doing my rounds." 

"But I thought Padma did rounds on Friday night," Harry said with a teasing lilt to his voice as he saddled up close and began to kiss Anthony all along his jaw line. 

"I traded with her," he said distractedly. "I wanted to talk to you about something." 

"Forget talking … this is much better," Harry whispered and then ran his tongue along the contours of Anthony's ear. 

"Harry, stop doing..." 

His sentence trailed off when Harry reached little soft spot of skin, right behind Anthony's left ear. 

Anthony determinately yet gently pushed Harry away; his face came into view with a crestfallen expression upon it. 

"God, you're cute." 

"So kiss me." 

"No." Anthony did however give Harry one quick kiss of apology. "I want you to tell me why you've been so down the last couple of days." 

Talk about ruining the mood — Harry's whole being seemed to sink in an instant and he stepped over to lean against the wall. "It's because of tomorrow," he said whilst looking down at his shoes. 

Anthony cupped Harry's chin, trying to get him to look up at him. "So, what's happening tomorrow?" he asked in a soft voice. 

"Anthony," he said in a drawn out voice. "Tomorrow is Samhain; it's the day Voldemort killed my parents and gave me this." He quickly touched his scar. 

Anthony froze for only a second and then pulled Harry tightly to him. "Merlin, I'm so sorry. How could I have been so dense?" 

Harry didn't say anything. 

Anthony continued the embrace. "Listen, we'll spend all of tomorrow with each other." 

Harry let out an exasperated sigh. “First off, you don’t have to apologize.” His voice was muffled against Anthony’s chest. “I really want to spend tomorrow with you; I just have Quidditch practice in the morning, but I'm free after that." 

"Hold on — I have a Prefect meeting at one o'clock, and then I'm leading an Arithmancy tutoring session at three.” He sighed with frustration, “Damn." 

"Don't worry about it. I'll be okay." 

"No wait, I have an idea. We'll slip away early from the feast." He loosened his embrace just enough so that they could look at each other. “I know your parents died at night,” he paused and kissed Harry gently on his cheek. “So I'll stay with you. I'll stay with you all night." 

It was a moment before Harry could respond. Then he reached up and whispered in Anthony's ear. "Thanks for caring about me." 

Anthony whispered back, "I don't just care about you, Harry." He gazed into those beautiful green eyes, "I love you." 

That was the first time Harry could ever remember anyone saying that to him, and he knew in an instant that he felt the exact same way. 

"I love you, too." 

Then they began to kiss. 

Anthony never did finish his rounds that night. 

~~~~~SH~~~~~ 

The first attack came the first hour of Samhain with the British embassy in France; it collapsed the same way the orphanage had in London. The ambassador, his family, the staff and two visiting dignitaries all died. The second attack occurred the second hour of Samhain. This time it was the French Embassy in Britain. These attacks continued throughout the day, one each hour, all to Embassies, all in different countries, each one resulting in fatalities and destruction. 

~~~~~SH~~~~~

Dumbledore stepped gracefully from his Floo. 

"What is the report, Albus?" asked Minerva as she stood to vacate his desk chair. As Deputy Headmistress, she'd been keeping an eye on things while he'd been at the Ministry that afternoon. 

Dumbledore shook his head as he sank wearily into his chair; it had been a trying day. 

"Not good, I'm afraid." He looked to his long-time friend. "I greatly fear the ramifications of this day. The loss of so many ambassadors and diplomats will undoubtedly have wide-spread consequences." 

"Those poor Muggles." 

"Oh Minerva," the tone of his voice reflected his surprise at her elitist attitude. "The events of this day will affect us as well. The ramifications of today presents numerous opportunities for Voldemort's advancement, as undoubtedly these losses will put a diplomatic and possibly an economic strain on the countries involved." 

"But Albus, surely ...” 

Speaking over her, "We haven't the manpower or the necessary time to establish relations with these different countries." 

"Don't you think you might be over-reacting?" 

"Over-reacting?" He repeated her words as he stood up, placed his hands on the desk and leaned forward as he continued in an emphatic tone. "We've been fools, Minerva! Can't you see that? We live in this myopic bubble, barely concerning ourselves with the greater world around us!" 

She stood to face him, her Scottish brogue lending a bite to her words, "We have enough to deal with! What the Muggles do..." 

"What the Muggles do could very well affect our lives! What if Voldemort keeps up with these attacks?" 

She cringed when he said the name. 

"What if he starts killing the Muggle leaders? What if the Muggles start warring upon each other? Can't you see how that would affect us?" He had to stop a moment to take a breath, as he'd gotten himself worked into a state. 

"Albus, please sit down; let me get you a cup of..." 

He continued as if she hadn't said a word. "We have only one liaison! In all this time, we've managed to establish relations with only one Muggle country." 

A forlorn expression fell upon his face. "We haven't the time to catch up with him; he acted so quickly." 

Then he looked out the window and continued in a quiet voice, as if speaking to himself. "Now I know Tom; I know what you've been doing all these many months — you've been planning." He released a small chuckle. "You always were the smart one, and we have been the fools." 

In all the time she'd known him, Minerva had never seen Dumbledore so distressed. 

"Albus," at this point, she was hesitant to even interrupt him again. "Do you think we should cancel tonight's feast, in light of what has happened?" 

The old wizard reached out and stroked his Familiar and Fawkes offered a soft and beautiful trill in response. "Oh Minerva, the children love this feast. How can we deprive them the happiness of their youth?" 

"All right then," she sighed. "I'll tell the elves to get on with the preparations." 

~~~~~SH~~~~~ 

And prepare they did. The elves jumped into high gear: preparing special dishes and desserts for that evening's feast, decorating the Great Hall with floating Jack-O-Lanterns — they even conjured a Banshee to fly around the hall on her broom to swoop down every so often and toss candies to the younger children. 

All through the celebration, Anthony sat and watched Harry over at the Gryffindor table. It had been a frustrating day, knowing what Harry was going through but not able to be with him. 

Deciding they'd waited long enough, Anthony surreptitiously took his wand and quietly incanted "Wingardium Leviosa" to levitate a piece of candy over to Harry's plate of untouched food. 

Harry stared momentarily at the candy that had just landed on his roast beef, then he looked over to Anthony who nodded his head in the direction of the side door and silently mouthed the words, _Let's go._

Harry nodded and amidst the chatter and activity in the Hall, the two managed to discreetly slip out unnoticed to all except but one. 

The Headmaster noticed the two young wizards exit as he sat and pondered the calamities of the day. In fact, it had been the main topic of conversation that evening for nearly everyone at the Head Table and the majority of the older students. 

A House elf appeared next to Dumbledore and handed him a note.

He knew right away what this would be and took the missive with a sense of forebode. Unfolding the bit of parchment, he read— 

Shacklebolt to Dumbledore,   
Building collapse reported at 20:45 BST   
Structure: Town Hall   
Casualties: None. Building vacant at time of collapse   
Location: Little Whinging, Surrey 

His breath froze in his chest as he read those last three words; he looked up with a chill of fear and stared out over the sea of students before him. "It's Harry," he whispered to himself. "The surprise is Harry." 

Dumbledore turned to his right. "Minerva, get Poppy." Then he rose quickly from his chair and beckoned for Severus and Channon to follow him.

They moved swiftly to the side door where he'd seen Harry exit. Now, out of sight of the other students, they ran full bore across the side chamber and out through the open French doors.

When the three wizards reached the Rose Garden, the sight that greeted them stopped them in their tracks. 

Anthony was sprawled on the ground, blood was running from his eyes, nose and ears. Harry was motionless, suspended in the air with his arms out-stretched. An iridescent green light swirled around him as if he were encased in a shimmering green eggshell.

Dumbledore and Severus started for him but Channon called out, "No! You can't go near him." 

The three men watched helplessly, desperate to do something. 

"We could try erecting a ward around him," suggested Channon. 

"There are already wards around the castle, obviously they are ineffective against whatever this is," responded Dumbledore. 

Just then, Harry let out a prolonged scream. "Noooooo!" 

Severus stepped forward, "I'm going to try and help him Occlude." 

"No, it's too dangerous," warned Dumbledore. 

Severus turned back and snapped at the old wizard, "What choice do we have. If we don't help him — he'll die." 

There was no contradicting his words. 

"He’s right," added Channon. 

“I am replaceable Albus,” said Severus. “Harry is not.”

The old wizard looked at his longtime friend and shook his head in defeat. “Please, be careful.” 

Severus turned and approached cautiously. When he reached the perimeter of the shimmering field, he closed his eyes and began to Occlude, then stretched his efforts outward to include Harry. Suddenly he was bombarded with images, sucked in to witness a battle of memories. 

_He was inside a small dark place.  
Uncle Vernon was hitting him.  
He stood in a crib and saw a green light as a woman screamed.  
He was tied to a tombstone, watching as Wormtail drop some horrid creature into a cauldron—_

Then suddenly, Severus was watching a different set of images.

_He was sitting all alone in a small dingy room.  
He was one of many children all dressed in the same gray uniform.  
He was consumed with emptiness and bitter jealousy — _

Now he was back in Harry's memories.

_Sirius was falling through the veil.  
A train rolled by and he wanted to step up onto the tracks —_

Voldemort again. 

_He was slithering on the ground while consumed with a crushing sense of exile and frustration.  
He felt shock as Harry Potter pushed the bead of light back along the thread connecting their wands— _

Back to Harry, but now these images were of a different nature: they were memories embraced with love.

_He was being held by Mrs. Weasley._  
He sat on the grass as Dumbledore wrapped his arms around him.  
He stared into hazel eyes and was filled with love — 

All of a sudden, the shimmering green shield surrounding Harry exploded and shot out in all directions, the force of which knocked both Channon and Albus to the ground and hurled Severus backwards through the air. Harry fell to the ground and layed limply in a heap. 

Channon came to his senses. “Albus, are you all right?” He reached over and helped the old wizard to a sitting position.

“Yes, I believe so.” He looked over and gasped at the sight of the victims sprawled upon the ground.

Just then, Poppy and Minerva came upon the scene. “What happened?” One of them called out.

“See to the boys,” Dumbledore ordered. “Channon, go help them … I’ll check on Severus.”

Severus was laying flat on his back, staring up at the star filled night-sky. He saw several people run by in the periphery and then the next thing he knew a familiar face was hovering over him. It was Albus and he was speaking to him, but Severus couldn’t hear what he was saying. 

Engulfed in silence, Severus felt completely detached from the activity around him. He began to lose consciousness and as he did, the emotion from that last memory — the feeling of Harry’s love, came and wrapped itself all around Severus. It stayed with him as he sank into the blackness and held him tightly in its secure embrace. 

 

~~~~~SH~~~~~


	12. Fallout

  
Author's notes: The events of Samhain has a marked effect upon many folks.  


* * *

12\. Fallout 

 

_He was floating in a sea of black; it was blessedly silent and he felt at peace._

_But he wasn’t alone, something had come with him; it had followed him in and then wrapped itself around him like a thick, soft cocoon._

_He heard a noise. It was very faint, yet even still — the noise was too much to bear, so he drifted away from it._

_Eventually, his sense of awareness reached beyond the loving warmth of his cocoon and when he heard that faint noise again he was able to identify it as a voice. Someone was talking to him._

_He wanted to sink back into the cocoon of love. It was familiar to him now and he didn’t want to leave it — he didn’t want _it_ to leave him. _

_“Severus, wake up. I’m here waiting for you. Please wake up.”_

_As the voice and his awareness grew stronger, they began to pull him away from the darkness and away from his quiet place until finally he opened his eyes._

~~~~~SH~~~~~

A heavy fog had settled over the London area just after Samhain and for three days now it entombed the city in a gray blanket of wet. 

Bellatrix Lestrange pulled her cape tightly to her, trying to ward off the permeating cold as she walked briskly along the cobblestone road of Knockturn Alley.   
< br>   
She glanced up briefly at the falling minute droplets and sneered. “I hate fog,” she grumbled, just before she yanked open the door to Skulkin Bar, slipped inside and surveyed the room with an intimidating scowl. 

The patrons looked up when she entered but immediately returned their attention to their drinks as soon as they realized who it was. They all knew Bella, and knew best not to draw her attention. They came for the cheap liquor and the dark atmosphere. It was not a place for social drinking, but of private drinking for those who didn’t really have anything better to do.

She flipped the cape from off her shoulders, allowing it to drape down her back. Still scanning the room, almost daring anyone to look her in the eye, she pulled her long black hair out from under the fabric and ran her fingers through it trying to offset the effects of the heavy mist. 

“Whiskey soda,” she barked and then waited impatiently for the bartender to hand the drink to her. She then strode confidently across the bar and through a back hallway where at its end, she entered a small room to her left. 

“What took you so long?” asked Mulciber. 

“I was detained,” was all she offered as she set down the glass and took a spot between Avery and Dolohov. “Has anyone heard anything new?” 

They all shook their heads. 

“Why did he stop us?” she asked. “Everything was going perfectly. I don’t know about any of you, but my building was spectacular.” 

“If you’d been on time, you’d know that everyone’s buildings were _spectacular_ ,” Nott imitated her accent, “and must you do that in public?” 

“Do what?” she looked up in surprise. 

“That!” he pointed at her hands. 

She simply huffed and went right back to flicking her wand to touch up the chipped polish on her nails. 

“Can we please get back to business?” implored Dolohav. “We all know we can’t bring down those buildings without help from the Dark Lord. Until he tells us to resume, our hands are tied.” 

“But why did he stop us?” asked Bella again, this time more emphatically. “No one has answered my question.” 

“That’s because we don’t know, Bella,” snapped Avery. “Don’t you think the rest of us are frustrated as well?” His voice now rose with exasperation. “First he’s gone for months. Finally he returns with this stupendous plan, but then he stops us after only one day of operations. It makes no sense. What could have happened?” 

~~~~~SH~~~~~ 

Far off in Little Hangleton, a stumpy short wizard stood outside the bedroom of his master; with a trembling hand, he timidly knocked upon the door. “My lord, I have your broth.” 

“Enter.” 

Peter Pettigrew quietly entered the room and saw that the Dark Lord had finally made it out of his bed. He was now reclining on the chaise lounge, staring blankly out the window. 

Peter scurried over and set the bowl of broth on the small side table then went to fetch a warm throw and returned to Voldemort’s side. 

“My Lord?” he asked hesitantly. 

Voldemort glanced over at the soft woolen blanket and nodded his head. 

Making absolutely certain not to touch his master, Peter spread the blanket out to cover Voldemort’s legs. 

“Is there anything else my Lord requires?” 

Voldemort shook his head. “Leave me.” 

“Yes, my Lord.” Peter bowed deeply then hurried out of the room. 

Voldemort continued to stare out at the shadowy silhouettes of the shrubbery and trees as they peered back at him through the heavy fog. 

He couldn’t actually remember Apparating back to his mansion. He could only remember waking up in his bed the day after his attack on Harry and then lying there for yet another day, immobilized by shock. 

He was still in shock or better yet, stunned — stunned with disbelief that Harry Potter had once again overpowered him. 

The first time had been all those years ago in Goderic’s Hollow. Potter’s second victory had taken place two years previous when they dueled in the graveyard. Then the annoying brat accomplished this impossible feat yet again last year, when Voldemort had tried to possess the boy — and then there was Samhain, just three days ago. 

He’d been certain that this time his method would succeed, but it hadn’t. His efforts in using Legilimency to rip apart Harry’s mind didn’t only fail, it had backfired, as the boy had actually managed to enter _his own_ mind. 

This personal attack was almost beyond Voldemort’s ability to comprehend or accept. 

“How dare that impudent child attack me!” He spoke a loud, and to think of it again made him tremble with ire. 

He knew he had to find some way to stop his annoying nemesis. Dueling was not an option, for their wands were related. He couldn’t possess him and now, apparently he couldn’t even use Legilimency. 

As the afternoon wore on, his cup of broth long forgotten, Voldemort continued to lie upon his lounge and ponder the challenge of just how he could succeed in killing Harry Potter. 

~~~~~SH~~~~~ 

Albus Dumbledore walked wearily along a corridor on the fourth floor of St Mungo's Hospital. Turning a corner, he saw Molly Weasley sitting at the opposite end. She rose to greet him as he approached. 

“Oh, thank you for coming, Albus.” 

“Is there any change in his condition?” 

She shook his head, “No, I’m afraid not." She brushed back her hair. “Has Filius had any luck?” 

“He tracked their travels to some ruins in Belize and succeeded in contacting them this morning. Last I heard, they were obtaining emergency international Portkeys and should arrive this evening.” 

Dumbledore looked at the closed door. “And how is Harry?” 

“That’s why I called you, Albus. You’ve got to do something. He won’t listen to me, or Arthur. He absolutely refuses to leave.” Her voice began to quaver as her eyes filled with tears. “He’s devastated. He won’t eat or sleep. He’s just sitting there.” She sniffed her nose and drew a shaky breath. “Would you please try and talk some sense into him? I think he’ll listen to you.” 

“Of course, Molly,” He touched her shoulder then headed toward the door. 

"Albus, how is Severus?" 

He stopped and turned back. "I was with him this afternoon when he regained consciousness. Poppy says he'll be fine." 

"Thank Merlin for that." 

Dumbledore opened the door and entered the dimly lit hospital room. Harry was sitting beside the bed. He was holding Anthony’s hand and had fallen asleep. 

When Voldemort attacked Harry the night of Samhain, his intent had been to use Legilimency to tear apart Harry’s mind and thus kill him; but Harry had automatically thrown up his shield, and inadvertently deflected the attacking force onto Anthony. 

Anthony sustained numerous cerebral hemorrhages which had left him in a coma. The Healers believed that if he lived, he would most likely never come out of the coma. If he did come out of it, he would be permanently obtunded. 

Dumbledore conjured a chair next to Harry’s and sat down beside him. 

Harry was so pale, there were dark circles under his eyes, his hair was a mess and he was still wearing the same clothes he’d worn for the past three days. 

He reached forward and took Harry’s free hand. “Harry.” 

Harry woke with a sluggish start, not realizing he had dozed off. 

Dumbledore noted the red eyes and nose from crying. “Harry,” he spoke very softly, “Professor Flitwick has located Mr. and Mrs. Goldstein, they will be here shortly.” 

Harry looked from Dumbledore over to Anthony. He was so tired he didn’t think he could speak, so he just nodded his head in acknowledgement. 

Dumbledore continued, “When they arrive, I want you to go to the Burrow for the remainder of the week. You need to rest. I will arrange for Helena to come and see you.” 

Harry sat there looking at his friend lying motionless upon the bed and his eyes welled with tears. “Why did this have to happen?” his voice shook as he started to cry. “Why does he always hurt the ones I love?” 

Harry pulled his hand away from Dumbledore’s to cover his face as he broke into sobs, but he wouldn’t let go of Anthony’s hand. 

Whatever Albus said, words could never justify what Voldemort had done to these two young men, or to all the innocent people that had lost their lives over the years in Voldemort's struggle for supremacy. So instead of offering an empty excuse, Dumbledore scooted his chair a little closer and reached an arm around Harry. He would sit and hold him while they awaited the arrival of Anthony’s parents, then he would take Harry to the Burrow. 

~~~~~SH~~~~~ 

Severus lay upon one of the infirmary beds propped up by numerous pillows. He felt dazed, had a terrible headache and one of his legs was numb. He'd sustained all his injuries as a result of being a little too close to Harry when his magical surge burst across the rose garden. 

He was quietly sipping a cup of tea, trying to process the little bit of information Albus had told him regarding the events of that night; that of the three persons injured, the injuries of the intended victim had been the least severe. 

Harry broke his ankle when he fell to the ground and was literally exhausted from fighting off Voldemort’s attack. Aside from that he was fine, at least physically. The injuries to Anthony had left Harry an emotional wreck. 

He, Severus, sustained a fractured skull and concussion from the hard landing. The nerve damage to his leg occurred when some of Harry’s magical surge passed through him, short circuiting a couple of nerves. Poppy assured him that they would regenerate, but that he’d have a slight limp for a while. 

Then Severus lifted a hand to touch his hair. He hadn’t looked in a mirror yet, but he could certainly feel how thick it had become, for apparently another effect from the surge passing through him was that his hair had grown in length and was now about twice as thick as it had been. 

He supposed he could attribute his dazed feeling to the concussion or being hit by a powerful magical surge, but Severus wondered if part of his daze was caused by what he’d experienced that night. 

It was that last memory of Harry's, that overwhelming feeling of love; Harry’s love to be precise, and somehow it had followed him into his own subconscious and had stayed with him, sheltering him whilst he was unconscious. 

That strong feeling of being surrounded with love was now only a memory, now that he was awake. That love had withdrawn, or was it that he'd withdrawn from the love? He had no place in his life for love, but yet, there was a tiny part of him that had liked the feeling of being loved, and that tiny part of him wanted the love to come back. 

“How are you feeling?” Poppy asked as she passed the privacy screen, startling him from his thoughts. 

“Would you please announce your approach? I almost dropped this,” he barked while handing her the now empty cup. 

“Ah, I can hear some of that spunk returning. I predict one more day, and then you'll be back to your old self again,” she teased just before performing another round of healing charms on his injured nerves. 

“I’ll thank you to save your attempts at comedy for the other patients.” 

When she finished her administrations she turned and looked at him with a curious expression. 

“What?” he asked defensively. 

“You seem different somehow.” 

“It’s the hair.” 

“No. It’s more than just your hair. Somehow, you’ve changed.” 

“Nonsense,” he huffed as he rolled over onto his good side. “Now would you mind Noxing the lights so I can get some rest?” 

Happy and relieved at his improvement, she smiled and did as he asked. “Good night, Severus,” 

He listened to her as she walked down the ward and retired to her quarters. Lying there in the darkened room, he thought about how it had felt when he was in his own dark place, and as much as he hated to admit it, that feeling of love wrapped around him _had_ felt nice. 

"But it's gone now," he said quietly to himself. 

Then it occurred to him that even if the love had left, he still had the memory of being loved, and perhaps that would be enough. 

~~~~~SH~~~~~ 

"I'll probably be late again tonight," Arthur said with an apologetic expression. 

"Oh Arthur, that will make every night this week." 

"There's nothing I can do about it, Molly. With this new proposed directive, the Muggle Relations Department is swamped." 

"I know dear, I think it's a good idea but you need help. Is the plan finalized yet?" 

"It's still in the preliminary stages right now. Then we still have to find twenty individuals to become the new liaisons; that is no small feat." 

"Has Kingsley been able to help? With all his experience..." 

"Molly, he's already taken on France in addition to Britain. Fortunately..." 

Just then the clock chimed, _Late For Work._

"Oh no, I'm late!" He gave her a quick kiss and raced to the Floo. Just before tossing in the powder, he called back, "Don't let Harry talk you into letting him go back to St. Mungos. You know what the Healers said last night." 

"I don't think he'll be able to manage much of anything today," she sighed. "Bye Arthur." 

After he Floo'd to work, Molly went to Harry's room and peered around the doorway. He was sound asleep, but the covers had slipped of his shoulders and it was cold this morning. 

She tiptoed over to him, pulled the covers up and tucked them around his shoulders, then stood a moment and watched him sleep. 

Dumbledore and Molly had arrived the night before with Harry in tow, along an array of draughts and potions. The Healers had given Harry a quick once over before their departure and determined that he was on the verge of a physical collapse and that he needed to sleep and rest for the next few days. The threat of admitting him as a patient was enough to make him agree to all they prescribed, and Molly was determined to carry out their orders. 

She knew he'd sleep the entire day. Leaning over, she gave him a kiss on his forehead then went back to the kitchen to start preparing some hearty dishes for when he awoke. 

By evening, she'd prepared beef stew, a shepherd pie, a dozen pasties, a treacle tart, scones and some nice warm spotted dick. 

The wonderful aroma wafting into his room roused Harry from his sleep. Even though he'd slept almost twenty four hours, he woke up groggy and just thought it was early in the morning. 

He felt content and cozy, enjoying the yummy smells of Mrs. Weasley's cooking, thinking about how nice it would be to eat whatever it was she had cooked. 

He started to stretch but stopped right away because of a painful twinge in his ankle. _What did I do to my ankle?_ He wondered if he'd fallen off his broom, but then it hit him. He remembered what had happened and the ache that engulfed his heart took his breath away. 

As he lay there in the twilight with the soft background noise coming from the kitchen, Harry thought of Anthony and of how much he loved him. He thought about how cute Anthony was clever and smart yet sensitive, funny and self assured. He thought of Anthony's body and how much he loved to touch him and kiss. 

Anthony had taught Harry so much about these things. He'd meant to ask Anthony where he'd learned all of this but now, he never could. His eyes welled with tears and he sank his face in the pillow and cried. 

~~~~~SH~~~~~ 

Severus had just poured himself a Scotch and was attempting to limp back to the couch when Dumbledore's voice called out from the Floo. 

"Severus, are you awake?" 

The hearth came into view as he passed the couch. Looking down at the face in the flames, Severus held his drink out for the old man to see. "Yes Albus, I'm awake. Come through." 

He set down his drink, lowered himself onto the sofa and used both hands to lift his bad leg up onto the cushions. 

"Mind if I do?" came Albus's voice from behind him. 

Looking over, Severus saw the Headmaster standing at the sideboard with the Scotch bottle in his hand. "Help yourself." He then proceeded to knock back a mouthful. 

Poppy had discharged Severus from the infirmary only that morning with strict orders that he rest and recuperate for the remainder of the week. He was more than willing to comply, as the numbness in his leg had graduated into a severe ache, giving competition to the one in his head. 

Albus collapsed onto the wingback chair and the two men took a moment to consider each other. This was the first opportunity they'd had for conversation since the ordeal of Samhain, five days previous. 

"How is Harry?" asked Severus. 

"He's at the Burrow, resting. Apparently he slept all of today and Healer Swanson will meet with him tomorrow." 

"And Mr. Goldstein?" 

Albus breathed in the vapors from the alcohol and then took a sip. "They moved him to the long term care ward on the fifth floor today. His parents are considering transferring him to a facility in Brussels." 

"That will be difficult for Harry," Severus was concerned for the young wizard and perplexed with himself for feeling this way. 

"Mr. Goldstein's prognosis is not promising, and the facility in Brussels apparently specializes in brain injuries." He took another sip before continuing. "Perhaps it is for the best," his voice sounded defeated. "Harry will waste away, worrying and fretting to no end, trying to keep a vigil..." He let the sentence hang unfinished. 

They sat quietly for a while, sipping their drinks and lost in thought. 

"Severus?" 

"Hmm?" 

"I know you saw what transpired between Harry and Tom." 

Severus stared at his drink and nodded in response; the movement caused blue reflections of light to bounce off his thick black hair. 

"Can you tell me about the last memories you saw?" 

His request hit a little too close to what had become a _soft spot_ for Severus. "Why do you want to know?" 

"Please Severus, I'm trying to understand what transpired that night and if there is any correlation between the attack on Harry and the abrupt end to the embassy attacks." 

Severus's curiosity was now peaked. "Please explain." 

Albus set down his drink and then steeped his fingers as he recalled what he'd seen that night. "Just before Harry's magic surged, the green light … that _force_ which was bombarding him, it dissipated." 

"It did?" 

"Yes, it did." Now the old wizard sat foreword in his chair. "It was as if Voldemort withdrew his attack a fraction of a second before the surge." 

Now Severus set down his own drink. "If that is the case …," he paused a moment as he formulated his hypothesis. "Perhaps that wasn't a surge at all. Perhaps that was simply Harry's shield, and when the Dark Lord abruptly ceased his onslaught, the force of Harry's shield shot throughout the immediate vicinity." 

Dumbledore entertained this thought. 

"You haven't discussed this with Harry?" continued Severus. 

Dumbledore sighed. "Harry is been in no condition to discuss anything of this nature. He is so distraught; the Healers at St. Mungos almost insisted he be admitted as a patient." 

Severus remained silent as he struggled over the fact that he found this news personally distressing. 

"But I still need an answer to my question, if you could provide it," Albus persisted. 

Severus leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest, something he tended to do when he felt vulnerable. After a moment, he relayed all the images he had seen that night, both Harry's and the Dark Lord's, clarifying to Dumbledore that Harry had indeed fought back, miraculously employing his own stab at Legilimency. 

"Albus," Severus continued. “Harry not only fought back, but he succeeded in dictating what he showed to the Dark Lord. The last images I recall seeing were Harry's few memories of being loved." Severus actually had to pause a moment before continuing. "They were memories of him being held: by Molly, by you and by... Mr. Goldstein. This last one was quite … private." 

Albus was quiet as he grasped the importance of Severus's revelation. 

"It was love," Dumbledore stated plainly. 

"Beg your pardon?" 

"Severus, last year when Voldemort possessed Harry, he withdrew as soon as Harry's thoughts reflected upon his love for Sirius. In that case, Harry's thoughts had been purely responsive. But this time, it would appear that Harry took this knowledge and drew upon his memories of love, _intentionally,_ and used them as a weapon." 

"Dear Merlin." 

"Dear Merlin, indeed." Albus responded. "I would imagine this came as a rather nasty shock to Tom. It could explain why he retreated, and perhaps it might also be the reason for the abrupt halt in the attacks upon the Embassies.” 

They stared at each other in disbelief. 

_"He will have power the Dark Lord knows not..."**_ Albus whispered the words. "Tom may not understand this power of Harry's, but he certainly knows now, not to take it lightly.” 

 

~~~~~SH~~~~~

 

Author notes:  
** Order of the Phoenix, by J K Rowling, page 841, American edition

Skulkin Bar: I needed a bar in the Knockturn Alley area, but there isn’t one in canon, so I got the name Skulkin from Chamber of Secrets, Ch. 4 where Hagrid counsels Harry:  
“Skulkin around Knockturn Alley, I dunno—dodgy place, Harry— don’ want no one ter see yeh down there—“


	13. Turning Point

  
Author's notes: Harry finds a way to cope.  
My sincere thanks Steppenwolf, the best beta out there.   


* * *

13\. Turning Point

_A bend in the road is not the end of the road … unless you fail to make the turn.*_

Harry brushed his fingers lightly along Anthony’s pale cheek. He had come to say good-bye and was trying to memorize the still face, knowing that he might never see Anthony again.

"I'm so sorry this happened," Harry's soft voice quavered. "It should have been me, not you." He sniffled then touched gently that little spot just behind Anthony's ear. 

"You always liked it when I kissed you here." The tears were spilling down his cheeks. 

"Can’t you hear me?" He leaned forward and kissed Anthony ever so gently. "Please open your eyes. Please come back, I miss you so ..." Unable to finish the sentence, Harry pressed his cheek next to Anthony's and sobbed. 

Upon the advice of the Healers, Mr. and Mrs. Goldstein had decided to move Anthony to the institute in Brussels. They were just waiting for medical Portkeys and planned to leave later that afternoon. 

It was Sunday morning, eight days following Samhain. Harry had stayed at the Burrow for four days, trying to recuperate from his ordeal. Helena came on both Friday and Saturday to work with him, helping him deal with his grief and hopefully avoiding a reoccurrence of the depression.

She encouraged Harry to talk about his and Anthony’s relationship and what he’d been experiencing and feeling ever since the attack. And even though Harry was dealing with the initial raw stages of grief, Helena felt it important that he resume his normal routine as soon as possible. Therefore, as soon as he finished saying good-bye to Anthony, Harry would return to Hogwarts and resume classes the following day. 

~~~~~SH~~~~~ 

“Do you think we should go in and check on him?” asked Arthur. 

“No dear, let him have a few more minutes.” 

Arthur and Molly had escorted Harry to St. Mungos and were waiting outside Anthony’s room. 

“I hope this doesn’t set him back,” Arthur said quietly. 

“Helena said that Harry needed to do this for closure.” 

The door behind them opened very slowly and Harry emerged from the room. He had pulled himself together but it was apparent that he’d been crying. 

Molly took him in her arms and held him close to her. 

Suddenly a number of people came around the corner, walking at a quickened pace; amongst them were Dumbledore, Jackson, Mr. and Mrs. Goldstein and a number of Healers. 

“Albus, what’s the matter?” Arthur’s voice marked his surprise as he watched the Healers proceed on into the room. 

“My apologies,” returned Dumbledore, “but there has been an unexpected development.” 

Mr. Goldstein touched Dumbledore’s shoulder. “Excuse me for interrupting Albus, but I just wanted to thank you for all of your help. 

“Good luck to you and to your son and again, I am so very sorry.” 

“Thank you, Albus.” He turned to go to his son as Mrs. Goldstein gave Harry a quick hug and whispered in his ear. 

“You be sure to take care of yourself. It’s what Anthony would have wanted.” 

Harry bit his lips, trying to keep his tears in check, and just nodded in reply. 

She let go and went in to join her husband and son as Dumbledore began to explain to the Weasleys that Harry needed to return to the castle immediately. 

“But why, Albus?” asked Molly. “What has happened?” 

Dumbledore turned to Channon and handed him one of the Portkeys, “Will you please take Harry to my office and wait there with him. I’ll accompany Molly and Arthur back to the Burrow and explain the situation. I will only be a few minutes.” 

“Of course.” Channon took the Portkey and stepped over to a distraught Harry. 

“Harry, touch the Portkey,” he ordered. 

Harry had no idea what was going on, all he did know was that Anthony's mind had been whisked into oblivion and now all that was left of him was being taken away to another country. Ever since his experience during the third task, Harry didn't trust Portkeys. Looking down at this one, part of him hoped that maybe this Portkey might take _him_ into oblivion, so that he wouldn’t feel any more pain. 

He reached foreword and touched the Portkey. 

~~~~~SH~~~~~ 

Later, when Dumbledore stepped from his Floo, he saw Harry standing before one of the tall windows. Channon was next to him, holding a supportive arm against the young man’s back. He was saying something to Harry, but his voice was so soft, Albus couldn’t hear what it was he said. 

“Channon, would you mind? I need to discuss something with Harry — privately.” 

The professor nodded then turned back to Harry. “If you ever need someone to talk to, you can always come to me.” 

“Thanks,” Harry’s voice shook. 

Dumbledore waited for Channon to leave. “There is an important matter I need to discuss with you.” 

Harry stood there staring out the window. He felt so tired, physically, mentally and emotionally. He knew that Dumbledore talking to him but he just couldn’t find the interest or strength to listen to anything he had to say. 

He didn’t know how long this had gone on but next thing he knew, Dumbledore had wrapped an arm around him and was guiding him across the office and into the antechamber. A bed appeared before him and Dumbledore was telling him to sit down, so he did. 

“Drink this, Harry.” 

Dumbledore was holding a vial in front of him, and Harry stared blankly at it. He felt as if he’d hit a wall and just couldn’t think or do — anything. The Portkey hadn’t sent him into oblivion as he had hoped, but perhaps this might. 

So he took the vial and drank whatever it was inside. 

~~~~~SH~~~~~ 

The next thing Harry knew he was lying on the most comfortable bed imaginable. The sheets were soft and warm and he felt as if he was floating on a warm fluffy cloud. 

He could hear the soft patter of rain upon a window. Not quite awake but not quite asleep he was content to just lie there, listening to the rain. 

Eventually he felt a movement next to him, it spurred him to open his eyes. “Dobby? Is that you?” 

The little house elf was sitting next to him upon the bed. 

“Harry Potter is awake!” Dobby announced triumphantly as he handed Harry his glasses. 

“The Headmaster is wanting Dobby to report to him when Harry Potter is awake, and so Dobby is going.” 

“No Dobby, wait ...” Too late, Dobby had already disappeared. 

Harry slipped on his glasses, dragged himself to a sitting position and looked around the room. He recognized it but couldn’t remember how he got here. 

Dumbledore strode into the room and quickly raised a hand when Harry tried to get out of the bed. 

“Just stay where you are Harry. You’ve had a busy day, today.” 

Harry looked to the windows and realized that it was twilight. 

Dobby appeared back on the bed, but this time he was holding a cup of tea and a plate of sandwiches; he offered both to Harry. 

“Just the tea Dobby, thanks.” 

Dobby walked up the bed and put the plate of sandwiches on a side table. He quickly glanced at the Headmaster who was busy levitating a big squishy chair next to the bed, then he leaned over and whispered in Harry’s ear, “Dobby is thinking that Harry Potter should eat,” he said a bit insistently. 

Harry whispered back, “I will later, I promise.” 

Satisfied, Dobby nodded his head and was gone in an instant. 

Dumbledore took a seat and waited silently as Harry drank his tea and woke up a bit more. 

“Sir, why…what am I doing here?” 

The old wizard leaned back in the chair and regarded Harry for a few moments before answering. “You were in a bad way Harry, and in no shape to go to Gryffindor Tower." He then added in a whisper, "And I know how much you dislike the infirmary." 

Harry looked to his tea, “Thank you, Sir.” 

“There is however an important matter which we need to discuss.” 

_Oh yeah._ “Is this why everyone had to leave so quickly this morning?” 

“Yes.” 

Harry just waited. 

“Last night, Professor Snape was summoned by Voldemort.” 

“Is he all right?” Harry asked in a panic. He already felt guilty over the fact that Snape had been injured from the surge, and couldn’t believe that he had risked his life trying to save Harry’s. 

“Yes, he is — relatively speaking. He is still dealing with the injury he received last weekend, but you’ll see him tomorrow and can ask him yourself.” Dumbledore dreaded adding to Harry’s burdens, but he had no choice. “Our matter of concern is the information Professor Snape acquired last night.” 

“Information?” Harry asked hesitantly.

“Yes.”

“You mean, about the Embassy attacks?” 

“Not exactly, although that is a related topic. Voldemort’s attacks upon the Embassies ceased because of you, because of your counter attack upon him.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“You must understand Harry, that Professor Snape witnessed the exchange between you and Voldemort.” 

Harry froze. “He did?”

“Yes.”

“He saw … everything?” 

Dumbledore nodded. 

“Did he tell you what he saw?” Harry blushed.

“To a certain extent.” Dumbledore leaned forward. “Harry, Professor Snape respects your privacy, as do I. What he saw will remain private, I assure you.” 

Harry looked down at the sheets, avoiding the Headmaster’s gaze. 

“You have no cause for embarrassment,” Dumbledore continued. “On the contrary, I admire your courage and strategy. Not only did you succeed in countering Tom’s attack, _your_ attack upon him led to the abrupt cease-fire upon the Embassies.” 

This was all a bit much to take in, so Harry just took a sip of his tea instead. 

“But we need to return to my original topic — that being Voldemort’s change in priorities.” 

“What do you mean … his priorities?” 

“I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but we believe he wants to kill you.” 

“Sir, I already know this,” Harry said, sounding nonplussed. “He’s been trying to kill me since I was a baby.” 

“Ah yes. Allow me to clarify.” Dumbledore adjusted a pleat in the fold of his lavender taffeta robes, “From what Professor Snape heard last night, he believes that killing you has become Voldemort’s top priority.” 

“Um… so, that’s why I had to come back to the castle right away?” 

“Yes, and that is also why the Goldstein’s had to expedite their departure.” 

Harry’s heart may have missed a beat. “The Goldsteins? How does he know about Anthony?” 

“He saw Mr. Goldstein in your mind, during your counter attack.” 

Dumbledore quickly levitated Harry’s cup of tea before he dropped it. 

“Oh God, what have I done?” Harry covered his face with his hands. 

“Please do not to worry.” Dumbledore tried to diffuse the situation. “Mr. Goldstein has been registered under an alias and he will wear glamour. They are hundreds of miles away Harry. Everything has been taken care of.” 

His expression was filled with trepidation, “You’re sure?” 

“I am certain. But now, we must return to the primary topic.” 

“That wasn’t it? There’s more?” Harry asked incredulously.

“Yes, I’m afraid there is.” 

Harry lay back against the pillows, not knowing how much more of this he could take.” 

“Because of this new development, you will have to remain in Hogwarts.” 

Harry pulled the covers a little closer to him. 

“This means no Hogsmead weekends and most likely, your Christmas break will have to be spent here at the castle.” 

Harry lay silent for a minute, taking in this news. He finally responded in a small voice, “That’s okay. None of that matters anymore.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Harry held onto the covers and spoke with a small voice. “It’s just that, I don’t really care anymore.” 

Albus found Harry’s apathy distressing. “It will be possible for you to continue with Quidditch,” his voice held a hopeful tone. “I have placed a protective charm upon you; with it, you cannot pass through the wards if it is not of your choosing.” 

Harry stared blankly and just nodded. 

“Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger have been waiting to see you,” Dumbledore intentionally used a soft voice. “Are you up for receiving visitors?” 

“Sure.” Harry felt numb. All he could think about was how Voldemort was taking away everything that mattered in his life, bit by bit. 

~~~~~SH~~~~~ 

Monday morning Potions class was the usual affair, except for the fact that Snape was limping and using a cane. 

The students had straggled into the early morning class, collected what they needed from the store cupboard, and were now attempting to brew the antidote to Veritiserum. 

All through the double class, Severus kept an eye on Harry. It was obvious that the teen was having trouble staying focused, with the result that Miss Granger wound up brewing their entire potion nearly single-handedly. 

In addition to Severus keeping an eye on Harry, Harry was in turn keeping an eye on his Professor, watching him struggle with his uncooperative leg. 

Numerous times throughout the class they had inadvertently caught each other out, as they had looked to one another at the same time. 

At the end of class, the students placed their samples on Snape’s desk, from where he called out their assignment. 

“For Friday, you are to read chapter six and be well versed on the properties of antimony and its affect upon a Strengthening Solution. You will be tested on this. You are dismissed.”

The students moaned at the assignment, packed their schoolbags and then shuffled out of the potions lab. 

Harry, Ron and Hermione were walking down the corridor when Harry suddenly stopped. “Listen, you guys go on ahead; I’ll catch up with you at lunch.” 

“Why, where are you going?” asked Ron. 

“I just want to talk to Snape for a minute, in private.” 

Hermione looked at Harry and knew it would be pointless to try to change his mind. Ever since she’d spoken with him the night before, she could tell that he had changed. He seemed to have an attitude of seriousness about him now. 

~~~~~SH~~~~~ 

Severus hobbled over to the sideboard in his study and uncorked a vial of anti-pain draught. He measured out a healthy dose and took it in one swallow, then cringed at the bitter aftertaste. 

Before he could replace the cork, something inside of him told him that Harry was nearby. 

“What is it, Harry?” Severus asked even before he turned around. When he did, he saw Harry standing in the doorway. 

Harry started to speak but paused. There was so much he wanted to ask this man that he didn’t know where to start. “Sir, I…wanted to apologize for injuring you.” 

“You do not need to apologize. It was an accident.” 

“I also wanted to thank you, for risking your life to try to help me.” 

They stared at each other in silence. A desperate situation had led them to share something terribly private. But they were still teacher and student, and there existed the faint old sense of distance. It all just felt awkward. 

Severus’s lunch appeared suddenly on the low table in between the two chairs. 

They both looked over to it. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, Sir. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” 

“No Harry, wait.” Severus vacillated, his gut telling him one thing, his mind another. “Would you care to join me?” 

Surprisingly, the thought of sitting down and having a quiet lunch with Snape came as a relief. “Yes sir, thank you.” 

The two men ate their meal, or at least Severus did. Harry only managed a few bites, not having much of an appetite. Finally gave up and settled for his cup of tea. 

While they ate, they discussed a number of ‘safe’ topics: the new initiative set forth by the Ministry, the injury to Severus' leg and what actually was involved with nerve regeneration and so on. 

Severus didn’t miss the fact that Harry had barely touched his food. 

“Do you not like Dover sole?” 

“Oh no Sir,” Harry sort of sighed as he spoke, “it was great. I… well, I just don’t have much of an appetite.” 

“Understandable.” 

Harry lowered his head and became noticeably tense. 

“I apologize. That was ...” 

“No sir.” Harry set down his tea and clasped his hands together. “You don’t need to apologize. It’s not just that, I…” 

“Harry?” 

He startled at the interruption. “Sir?” 

Snape nodded his head toward Harry’s clasped hands. 

He stared at his hands and then realized that he was practically perched on the edge of his chair. Drawing a deep breath, Harry made himself sit back in the chair and relax. 

Severus waited until Harry had visibly calmed. He knew that agitation could cause Harry to surge, and he was only just recovering from last weekend’s surge. “Please, continue.” 

Harry sat and stared at his Professor. For weeks he’d wanted to finish the discussion that Snape had so abruptly ended, that day Harry first told him about his shield. But now, with all that had happened and was happening to him, his curiosity had turned into a desperate need. 

“Sir, do you remember about a month ago, when I first told you of my shield?” 

“Of course I do.” 

“That day Sir, you said something to me in Italian.” 

Severus stiffened slightly. He hadn’t expected this. “Yes, I recall.” 

“You told me the words meant, _I have experienced that on my own skin._ ” 

“Yes?” he responded cautiously. 

“Sir, could you tell me please, how you… What do you do…” He swallowed and tried again. “Sir, how do you deal with — everything?” 

Severus saw tears well up quickly in Harry’s eyes. 

“Harry,” Severus shook his head gently, “do not look to me as an example. You should go and speak with the Headmaster.” 

Harry shook his head. Even though he couldn’t say it, and even though Severus couldn’t say it, the two of them had shared — something, and whatever that something was, it had formed a sort of bond between them. 

Harry’s voice was almost a whisper. “I don’t think I can go on, Sir. This is all too much.” The tears spilled over his lashes and began to slide quietly down his cheeks. “I know I have a job to do… But I…” 

Severus struggled to stand up and then moved over to sit on the coffee table right in front of Harry. “You mustn’t speak like that,” he said imploringly. 

“I don’t know how to deal with all of this.” 

Severus stared at this young man crumbling before him. When he had been injured, Harry had somehow sent a part of himself to come and watch over him, Severus, in his time of need. Now it was his turn to do the same for Harry. 

“You want to know how I persevere.” Severus’s jaw was hard set. Even though he wanted to help Harry, this wasn’t easy for him. “You want to know how I survived then, and how I continue to survive.” 

Harry looked straight into those ebony eyes and nodded his head. 

“You’re counselor might not agree with my methods.” 

“I’m not asking her.” 

“Very well.” Severus drew a deep breath and let it out in a huff, “Work. I lose myself in work.” 

That wasn’t quite the revelation Harry thought he’d hear. “Work?” 

“You asked me, and so I am telling you. When things get to be too much, I brew potions.” 

Harry just stared at Snape. They were sitting inches away from each other, face to face but they were both so caught up in the conversation that this fact hadn’t even registered. with them. 

“And that makes everything okay?” 

“No. _Everything,_ as you call it, remains unchanged, but brewing is an escape. It is how I step away from the complexities of life.” 

~~~~~SH~~~~~ 

Harry eventually caught up with Ron and Hermione, all three were now making their way toward Transfiguration. As they walked along, Snape’s words regarding losing one’s self in one's work continued to echo in his mind, evoking a faint ray of hope in him.

_I have work I could do,_ he thought to himself. _There’s my schooling, and I have all kinds of spells, hexes and defensive measures to learn._

They walked into the classroom and took their seats.

_I have to stay in the castle anyway, so maybe if I just keep myself really busy with work, maybe I won’t feel all the hurt._

His classmates began to pull out their parchment and quills, but Harry sat unmoving with his thoughts fixed upon Snape and how despite all that he had to endure, the man was so strong in character and formidable. 

_Concentrating on work must be the answer. I’ll give it a try and hopefully I won’t feel…_

Professor McGonagall began to speak and her voice snapped Harry from his thoughts. Now, with a desperate determination, he grabbed his quill and parchment and devoted his undivided attention to her lecture.

 

~~~~~SH~~~~~

*Quotation by Anonymous


	14. Winter's Chill

  
Author's notes: The cold of winter and the warmth of the holidays are felt by Harry and his friends.  
Thank you to my wonderful beta, Steppenwolf.   


* * *

14\. Winter’s Chill 

 

Harry pressed himself flat against an enormous Cypress tree as a Blasting Curse exploded nearby. He cast yet another Shield charm, but not before a small stone clipped him on the back of his head. 

He had executed successfully the curses and hexes which had been assigned for this end of term maneuver, all that remained now was for him to make his way back to the starting point — in one piece. 

Dropping his Shield Charm, he cast the Geminio spell, silently. All of a sudden, a dozen Harrys appeared and began running in all directions. 

While all of these would be Harrys were busily occupying his _adversaries’_ attention, being hit with assorted jinxes and hexes; the real Harry cast a Disillusionment Charm upon himself and ran pell-mell toward a rocky outcropping. 

When he reached the designated ‘safety zone’ he leaned against one of the smooth boulders, slid to the ground and uttered wearily, “Finite”. 

Dumbledore, who’d been watching the operation from this vantage spot, actually jumped at Harry's sudden appearance. “Oh Harry, there you are. Well done, my boy, well done.” 

Channon came running over, “That was brilliant, using the Gemino Curse!” 

Harry was totally out of breath but he managed a small “Thanks” to both professors. 

While the majority of students had been in Hogsmeade relaxing and doing some Christmas shopping, Harry had spent over an hour in a secluded grove just north of the castle executing a Defense Against the Dark Arts test designed specifically for him. He’d had to make his way across the grove using an arsenal of assigned spells, hexes and curses all whilst battling off both Professors Jackson and Snape. 

Harry sat leaning against the boulder, listening to Dumbledore and Jackson as they discussed some of the highlights of the exercise when he saw Snape approach. 

The two dark haired wizards silently regarded each other for a few moments before Severus finally gave his nod of approval. 

Harry didn’t understand why, but Snape’s approval had become very important to him. Breathing a sigh of relief, he finally relaxed and leaned his head against the cold stone. 

Severus noted the blood running down the back of the teen’s neck. “You’re injured” 

Dumbledore and Jackson ceased their conversation to look at Harry who in turn had begun examining his hands and legs. 

During the exercise, it had been necessary for him to dive behind countless trees and rocks for cover and had been sprayed numerous times with shards of wood and bits of stone. He’d received so many little cuts and bruises, that he wasn’t sure to which one Snape was referring. 

He moved over to where Harry sat and knelt down on one knee. “Let me take a look,” he said as he gently placed a hand on the young wizard’s shoulder, encouraging him to lean forward, then he carefully parted the hair and inspected the wound. “Perhaps you should have Madame Pomfrey heal this.” 

“Oh no Sir, couldn’t you do it?” asked Harry. “It’s just a cut, right?” 

Severus looked to Dumbledore who nodded his consent. 

After Severus healed the wound he helped Harry get to his feet. 

“Harry, why don’t you get cleaned up and then come to my office,” suggested Dumbledore. “Now that you have mastered these spells, Professor Jackson and I wish to discuss with you the next level of your training. Shall we meet in say — two hours?” 

“Come on Harry,” Channon called over, “I’ll walk you back to the castle.” 

“Severus would you mind staying a moment?” asked Dumbledore. “There is something I need to discuss with you.” 

“Of course Headmaster.” 

Channon and Harry started back toward the castle as Severus moved to stand closer to Dumbledore. After taking only a few steps Harry chanced a glance and saw the ebony eyes watching him. 

~~~~~SH~~~~~ 

With the majority of the students still in Hogsmeade, Harry walked through the near deserted common-room and headed straight up the stairs for the showers. 

He washed away the grime and tended to his wounds then stood for a long time under the spray, hoping that the hot water would chase away the residual cold lingering in his bones from his afternoon out in the winter temperatures. 

Toweling off, he felt totally exhausted and decided to try and catch a kip before heading up to the Headmaster’s office. 

With only a towel wrapped around his waist Harry shuffled down the hallway to his dorm room but stopped in his tracks when he saw the tie hanging on the doorknob. 

“Oh fuck.” 

He let out a huff and debated what to do. Normally he’d just go hang out in the common room, but he was standing there stark naked except for the towel. The clothes he’d worn that afternoon were a mess and Goddamnit — he was tired and needed a nap. 

He knocked soundly on the door. “Listen, whoever’s in there, I’m coming in.” 

“Hold up!” Ron called out, “didn’t you see the tie?” 

“Of course I saw the tie but I’m freezing out here.” 

Harry heard muffled voices. “Ron, I’m serious. I’m opening this door in three seconds. One, two…” 

It sounded like someone fell on the floor, then after only a couple of seconds — the door opened and there stood Ron. His hair was disheveled, there was a hickey on his neck and his pants were unzipped. 

“Harry! What’s the idea?” 

“What do you mean — what’s the idea? This is my room too” 

A noise caused him to look over just in time to see Hermione, still kneeling on Ron’s bed, franticly trying to button up her blouse. 

“Oh for God’s sake,” he said under his breath. 

“Harry, listen…” pleaded Ron. 

Harry gave up and just walked in to the room — towel and all. “Never mind, it’s all right. You two don’t think I already know? I’ve known about you for weeks.” 

“Oh Harry,” Hermione’s voice at first sounded sympathetic, but it quickly turned to a squeal. “Oh Harry!” 

He had walked to the other side of his bed and turned away from her, then dropped his towel and pulled on a pair of sweats. “Sorry Mione, but I’m freezing!” Then he pulled last year’s Christmas jumper from Mrs. Weasley over his head. 

“What in Merlin’s name happened to you? You’re covered with bruises and cuts.” 

“Oh.” He thought she’d squealed because of the towel. “It’s nothing,” he responded as he pulled back the covers and crawled onto his bed. “They’re just from my exam this afternoon.” 

“Oh yeah, how did it go?” asked Ron. 

“Fine,” Harry said in a huff as he pulled of his glasses and placed them on the night-table. 

“No, come on tell us … how did it go?” 

Without his glasses, Ron and Hermione were a blur to Harry, but stared pointedly at them anyway. “It went fine. I got through all the spells and made it to the safety spot. But now I just need to warm up and close my eyes for a bit before I meet with the Headmaster.” 

“You’re meeting with Dumbledore? Why, what’s going on?” asked Ron. 

“Ron!” Harry yelled, “Will you please just give me a break?” 

“Come on Ron,” Hermione gently pulled at his arm, “He’s is tired. We’ll just talk to him later.” 

Ron’s hurt was evident in his expression as he and Hermione sulked out of the room and closed the door behind them. 

Harry watched his two friends leave and then continued to stare at the door after it had closed. He didn’t know why, but these days he felt like an outsider — like he just didn’t fit in anymore. 

“Dobby,” he called out quietly. 

The house elf immediately appeared. “Yes, Harry Potter. Dobby is here.” 

Harry managed a little smile at the elf’s enthusiasm. “Dobby, would you wake me up in half an hour? I’m really tired and I have to be somewhere in an hour.” 

“Yes, Harry Potter. Dobby will wait here and wake Harry Potter in thirty minutes.” 

“Thanks, Dobby.” 

He dropped down under the covers and fell asleep after only a few moments. 

Dobby felt very sad because lately his favorite human had been so unhappy. 

He tip toed up to the head of the bed and pulled the covers a little further up over Harry’s shoulders. Then he sat down and waited quietly while Harry Potter slept. 

~~~~~ 

The first snow of the season swirled around as the students climbed into the waiting carriages. 

“Have a Happy Christmas,” Hermione wished Harry as she gave him a hug. “I wish you could go to the Burrow.” 

“It’s okay, Hermione. It’s not like this is the first time I’ve had to stay here for Christmas.” 

She started to pull away, but Harry held onto her and whispered in her ear. “Listen, I’m sorry I’ve been an ass lately.” 

She tightened her grasp on him. “You don’t need to apologize. You have every right to be angry.” 

They stood there for a while holding onto each other until Ron stepped close and placed a hand on Harry’s back. 

“Hey mate, I could stay here with you and…” 

“No Ron, you go be with your family. I’ll be okay. Really, I will. Professor Jackson is staying and we’re going to work on some new stuff.” 

“All right,” Hagrid’s voice cut through the air, “Yuh be need’n tuh keep er move on. In’tuh the carriages with ya now.” 

“Well, have a Happy Christmas,” Harry called out as Ron and Hermione climbed into the carriage, and then stood watching as it rolled away toward the front gates. 

~~~~~ 

The weather turned bitterly cold the week before Christmas. Channon worked relentlessly with Harry on his new assignment: wandless spells, everyday from sun-up to well into the night. 

It was the day before Christmas and the two men were just walking back toward the castle after their morning run. 

“So you’re leaving this afternoon?” 

A look of contentment crossed his professor’s face. “Yeah.” 

Channon placed a gentle hand on Harry’s back, “Harry, I have some news to tell you.”

“Oh yeah? What?”

“I’m engaged.” 

Harry stopped in his tracks, “You’re engaged?” 

“Yes.” 

“You’re getting married?” 

“That’s generally what it means …yes” he said with a smile. 

“Then what in God’s name are you doing here? Why aren’t you with her? Her … right?” 

“Yes, she’s a her.” Channon gave Harry a push and they resumed walking toward the castle. “To answer your first question, I’m here because I believe strongly in this assignment.” 

Harry answered sheepishly, “You mean training me?” 

“Yes. Training you is important and necessary to all our survivals. I have Mariah’s complete support in this.” 

“Mariah. That’s her name?” 

“Yes.” 

“And that’s where you’re going for Christmas?” 

Channon bumped his shoulder against Harry’s. “Yeah. I’m sorry if…” 

“Oh no, Channon. Really, I’m happy for you.” _Then why do I feel so sad?_

~~~~~ 

Harry awoke on Christmas morning to an empty dorm room. 

He sat up in bed and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. As usual, there was a small pile of presents at the foot of the bed. When he put on his glasses however, he realized that it really couldn’t be considered a pile as there was only one present and two letters. 

Feeling disappointed, he bit his lips and unwrapped the present: a book on rare defensive spells from Channon. Then Harry reached for the smallest letter. It turned out to be a card from Remus, wishing Harry a Happy Christmas and saying that he wished he could come and visit but that he was busy on an assignment for the order. 

He tossed it off to the side then picked up the larger envelope; there was a slight bulge in the middle. When he opened the envelope, out fell an amulet that was strung upon a silver chain. 

He’d never seen anything like it and he picked up the amulet to study it more closely. Then he unfolded the parchment and read the note. 

_Harry,  
This is a powerful amulet, charmed with the ability to protect it's wearer.   
Wear it in good health,   
S. S._

Harry couldn’t believe his eyes. He stared at the letter from Snape and ran his fingers over the initials. Then he set down the note and slipped the necklace over his head. For some reason, he suddenly didn’t feel quite so alone. 

Knowing there was a special Christmas breakfast being served in the Great Hall for the few individuals whom had stayed over; Harry got dressed and headed down the stairs. The sight that greeted him from the common room however, caused him to stop midstep. 

There, standing before a huge decorated Christmas tree laden with presents beneath its boughs was the entire Weasley family and Hagrid. 

“Happy Christmas, Harry!” they all called out to him. 

Everyone took a turn hugging him. Molly and Arthur had waited so that they were the last to reach Harry. When they did, Molly wrapped the stunned teen in her arms. “You didn’t think we would let you be alone on Christmas, now did you?” 

Arthur placed one arm behind Harry’s back and one behind Molly’s “We told you last summer son, you are a part of this family.” 

Harry had vowed that last time he’d seen Anthony, that he would never cry again, but his determination quickly failed him. He tucked his face at the base of Mrs. Weasley’s neck and spoke in a shaky voice, “Thank you for caring about me.” 

“Oh dear,” she patted his back. “How many time do we have to tell you? We don’t just care about you …we love you.” 

~~~~~SH~~~~~ 

“Bye Mom,” Neville leaned forward and gave his mother a peck on her cheek then stood and stared down at the expressionless face and sighed, “Gran, I’m going to go say good-bye to Dad, then I’ll meet you at the nurse’s desk. 

“Very well,” the stern old witch answered. She and Neville had come to St. Mungo’s this Christmas day to pay a visit to his mother and father. 

Alice was wearing the scarlet colored scarf her mother in law had brought as a Christmas present. Augusta knew the staff wouldn’t let her keep the scarf, but had brought it anyway, thinking it might add a cheery touch. 

Their visit completed, Augusta and her grandson left the hospital and had to wait only a moment or two out in the bitter cold for the Knight Bus to arrive. 

Mrs. Longbottom took the front seat while Neville went to sit at the rear. These visits always left him feeling empty and depressed. Sitting alone at the back of the bus, he stared out the window and wished that just once in his life, he could experience a truly happy Christmas. 

“Come along, Neville. Don’t dawdle.” 

“Sorry, Gran.” 

They walked up the long pathway and entered the front door to the Victorian mansion. 

“I caught a chill being out in that cold,” she said. “Neville, go and see if the elves have tea ready for us.

 

“Yes, Gran.” 

He had barely taken one step when his Grandmother called out, “What are _you_ doing here? How dare you step foot in my home!” 

Neville tried to draw his wand but was quickly grabbed by Mulciber. 

“Shut it, you old bitch,” Bellatrix shouted back. Then she quickly cast a Langlock jinx and Petrificus Totalus upon the matronly witch. 

Dolohov swiftly levitated Augusta before she fell over and then positioned her on one of the couches. 

“Gran!” Neville yelled. 

“Be quiet, you idiot boy,” snarled Bellatrix. “We aren’t going to hurt the old bat.” 

Neville struggled to free himself but was quickly bound by thin cords which shot out from Bellatrix’s wand. “Let me go! Let me go!” 

“Bella, get on with it!” yelled Mulciber, “I’ve had it with this kid!” 

Lestrange stepped close to Neville. Then with a gleam in her eye, she raised and pointed her wand, “Imperio,” she crooned softly. 

Neville stopped his struggles and the expression on his face relaxed as he fell into the blissful daze of the curse. 

She stepped even closer and began to toy with her captive, running the tip of her wand along his cheek and jaw. “We have a job for you to do my pudgy, little friend.” 

Neville stared blankly at his tormentor. 

“You are going to deliver Harry Potter to us.” 

“I can’t. He’s safe inside Hogwarts.” 

“I realize that you imbecile. That is why you must convince him to step outside the wards. Once he’s clear of the wards, we can take him.” 

“Harry is smart. He won’t do it.” 

“Well you’d better find a way of getting him to leave of his own accord, because if you don’t do it, we will kill your Grandmother.” 

Neville was no match for the powerful curse. “All right, I’ll do it. I’ll find some way to get Harry to leave Hogwarts.” 

 

~~~~~SH~~~~~


	15. Lost and Found

  
Author's notes: An enormous thank you to Steppenwolf for her expert and timely editing. All rights belong to JKR, WB, Scholastic and so on.  


* * *

15\. Lost and Found 

 

_The echoing sound of raised voices woke Severus from his nap. They scared him and he wanted his mother._

_He climbed from his bed and ran out his room where he was enveloped in a pale gray mist._

_“Mummy!” He called and he stretched out his arms trying to find her._

_The voices grew louder and louder. Then a horrible, piercing scream sounded over an ominous thumping noise._

Severus bolted upright from his bed and gasped. He was covered in a cold sweat and breathing hard. 

“Lumos!” 

He looked around the bedroom and tried to collect his thoughts, then he dragged a hand though his thick black hair and pushed it away from his sweaty face. 

After a minute he slid out of his bed then staggered into his bathroom to splash some water on his face. 

With droplets of water dripping from his nose and chin, Severus looked up and stared at his pale reflection in the mirror. 

“Grrrr,” he grumbled in frustration. 

“What’s wrong, dearie?” asked the mirror. 

The sweet voice startled him, “How many times must I tell you?” he yelled. “Never talk to me!” 

Severus stormed out of the bathroom, grabbed his black silk robe from the foot of his bed and slipped it over his naked body as he strode out to the living room. 

He poured himself a snifter of brandy, waved his hand to start a fire then went over to sit before the hearth. 

After taking a large sip of the burning liquid Severus laid his forehead in his hand and sighed. 

“Damn you, Harry.” 

For months now the memory of that night had visited him in nightmares. It seemed as though his experience with Harry while he, Severus, had been unconscious had left an indelible mark upon him. 

Severus took another sip sat back and leaned his head against the back of the chair. He was frustrated with himself and with Harry for that matter. Part of him blamed all of this… _vulnerability_ , on that blasted green eyed wizard. Severus was accustomeded to being in control of himself but these growing feelings and resurfacing memories refused to be silenced. 

~~~~~ 

The raucous in the Gryffindor common had escalated to beyond deafening. 

“Did you see the look on their faces?” asked Ginny 

“It was bloody fantastic. They couldn’t believe it was happening to them!” added Dean. 

“I know!” continued Ron. “And when Harry caught the Snitch I thought their entire team would fall off their brooms!” 

All of Gryffindor was in the common room celebrating their win in the semi-finals that afternoon. 

“Speaking of which—hey Harry, come over here! Have some of this punch,” suggested Seamus. “It’s got a real kick to it…if you get my drift.” 

Everyone started laughing. Harry shook his head as he came down the steps and crossed the common room. 

“No thanks, I’ve had enough.” 

“What do you mean—you’ve had enough? You haven’t had any.” 

“I know— and I’m going to keep it that way,” Harry retorted as he slipped out the porthole. 

It was only three o’clock Sunday afternoon. Harry decided there was still plenty of time to study for tomorrow morning’s potions exam so he was off to the library to do just that. 

“Hey, Harry!” 

He turned back to see Neville standing just outside the portrait of the Fat Lady. “Yeah?” 

“You want to maybe go into Hogsmeade to celebrate?” 

Harry wondered a moment if he’d heard correctly. “Uh…Neville, we can’t go to Hogsmeade whenever we want to—you know that.” 

“Oh, right. I don’t what I was thinking.” 

Harry took a couple of steps back toward where Neville stood. 

“Maybe you’re just excited about the win,” he offered. 

“That must be it.” 

As Harry looked more closely at his friend, it seemed as though something about him was a bit _off._

“Are you all right?” Harry put a hand on Neville’s shoulder whom in turn jumped immediately backward. Harry lifted his hand quickly, as if he’d been scalded. 

“I’m sorry Neville, I didn’t mean…” 

“It’s okay.” Neville glanced off to the side trying to avoid looking directly into Harry’s eyes. “I guess I’ll go back to the party.” He turned and ducked back into the porthole. 

Harry stared dumbfounded at the portrait. 

“Well,” said the Fat Lady, “that was certainly odd behavior.” 

“Bloody right,” agreed Harry. 

~~~~~ 

Intentionally avoiding his and Anthony’s usual spot in the back corner, Harry veered off to the right to join Hermione. Walking past the sixth shelving of books he saw the familiar wild mop of curly hair. 

“Hi Mione,” he whispered. 

“Harry…What are you doing here? How come you aren’t celebrating?” 

“I’m the one who caught the Snitch, remember? That’s celebration enough.” 

“Guess you have a point.” 

“Listen,” Harry whispered as he had a quick look around the immediate area, “have you noticed anything weird about Neville?” 

“You mean more than the usual?” 

“Yeah.” 

“No. Why?” 

Harry told her about what had just occurred. 

Hermione sat back and tapped her pencil against the side of her head. “Maybe,” she strung out the word as she formulated her thought. “Perhaps he’s anxious about the upcoming Easter break.” 

Harry cocked his head a little to the side. “Why?” 

“Harry, you know how his grandmother intimidates him. And visiting his folks always makes him depressed.” 

“Yeah…maybe that’s it.” 

“I’ll have a chat with him, but listen, we need to study.” 

“I know. Let me see your notes on steam and component reactions.” 

“Sure.” She handed the parchment to him. “You do know this effect occurs during the brewing process of Draught of Living Death.” 

“Why do you think I’m asking for it?” his voice inadvertently rose above a whisper and Madame Prince immediately reprimanded them with a ‘Shhhhh’. 

~~~~~ 

“I’m going to get Harry some Pepper Imps. He loves these things,” stated Ron. 

“Just hurry up,” huffed Hermione impatiently. 

They’d been in Hogsmeade all morning and it being midterm, Hermione was anxious about their upcoming tests. 

“I want to get back and do some more studying.” 

“I tell you Mione, between you and Harry…you’re both going to drive me loony with all of your studying.” 

It was Saturday, two days before the beginning of the midterm tests. The next weekend the majority of the students would go home for the Easter break. 

Neville listened to his two friends bantering back and forth as he strolled out of Honeydukes. He was apprehensive because he’d not yet fulfilled his assignment. 

He sucked upon a Licorice Wand as he walked toward Zonkos Joke Shop. Suddenly, the large hand of Rosier reached out, grabbed him and threw him to the cobblestones between two narrowly set buildings. Waiting for him in the back alley were Rookwood and Bellatrix. 

She pointed her wand and Accio’d Neville to where she stood. 

“Where is Potter?’ 

Neville crouched upon the ground with fright. “I keep asking him, but he won’t leave Hogwarts.” 

The hardened, bitter witch stared down at Neville. “We were wrong in choosing this one.” She looked up toward the two wizards. “He is too stupid and too weak.” 

“Maybe so Bella,” snapped Rosier, “but he’s all we’ve got. Go on… give it to him.” 

She walked over, knelt down next to Neville and drew a deep breath. As much as she preferred to hit him with the Cruciatus she had to put on an act and play to the Imperius curse. 

“Sit up little boy,” she said in a soft voice. 

Neville sat up and wiped away the tears that had started running down his cheeks. 

“Look at this.” She removed a satin covered oval box from one of her robe pockets and held it out for him to see. 

“It’s…beautiful,” he replied in a shakey voice. 

Bella rolled her eyes. “Stop talking and pay attention.” She pulled back the clasp then raised the lid. Inside the satin box were two petite and beautifully decorated chocolate eggs. 

Neville opened his mouth as if to say ‘Oh’, but he dared not make a sound. 

Each egg was covered with roses made from icing, each was a different color. 

“You may only eat one of these eggs. Do you see this green one here?” 

Neville nodded. 

“You may eat only this egg, and you may only eat it when Potter is near to you, but no one else. Then you must get him to eat the other egg. Is that understood?” 

Again, Neville nodded. “Then what do I do?” 

Bella smiled, “Then…” she placed her wand under his chin, encouraging him to look up, “you bring him to us outside the gates. We will be waiting for the two of you.” 

“Okay, I think I can do that.” 

~~~~~ 

Severus put out the flame under the cauldron then levitated it over to another work table. After this last potion cooled, he’d bottle it and head back to Hogwarts. 

Turning away he cocked his arms and stretched, trying to work some of the kinks from his sore back. He’d worked most of the night brewing potions for the Dark Lord and it was now well into the wee hours of Monday morning. But thankfully there’d be no sixth year potions class to teach and none all week for that matter, as the students had returned to their homes for Easter break. 

Leaning against the table Severus stared around the laboratory. It was located in an underground room and even after all these months, he still had no idea as to the location of this manor. The summoning Apparation always deposited him in the foyer he’d seen that first night of Voldemort’s return. Then he was escorted immediately down a stairway to the laboratory and had never been allowed access to any window. 

He divided this last potion evenly between the awaiting vials and corked each one. His work completed, he went to gather his cloak but stopped when the door slammed abruptly open and in rushed Pettigrew. 

“You must come with me.” 

Severus looked disdainfully at the little wizard. “And why might that be.” He replied in a cool voice. 

“It’s our master. He is quite ill.” 

“Another headache?” 

Peter nodded his head in a quick, jerking fashion. 

While contemplating the possibility that Pettigrew had spent too much time in his Animagus form, Severus stepped quickly to the store cupboard to retrieve the necessary medicinal potions. 

~~~~~ 

Severus leaned over the still figure of the Dark Lord as he slept. 

Judging the crisis as having been rectified, the tired potion master stood up wearily and nodded his head toward the door. “Come with me, I need to discuss the dosages with you.” 

Peter headed toward the door as Severus went to gather the few vials of unused potions. When he turned, he noticed that the drapes were open and so quickly surveyed the nearby surroundings to see if he could garner any clues as to location of the manor. 

~~~~~ 

Harry yawned and stretched as he rolled onto his back. The immediate thought that he had overslept seized him and he shot up to a sitting position. 

“Morning,” Neville’s voice called over. 

“What time is it?” Harry asked in a panic. 

“Just after seven.” 

“Shit, I’m going to be late for potions.” 

“Relax Harry, it’s Easter break… remember?” 

Harry already had one foot on the floor. “Oh yeah.” He fell back into bed and pulled the covers back over himself. “I forgot.” 

“What time did you get in?” Already dressed, Neville was sitting on his bed doing up the laces to his shoes. 

“Just after eleven. Channon left me some assignments and I was trying to get in some extra practice.” 

Deciding to skip his morning jog for once, Harry closed his eyes to savor this rare luxury of having no classes. 

Across the room, Neville studied Harry for a moment and decided to try and implement the plan he’d been assigned. 

“Harry?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I have this extra credit project for Herbology and I was wondering if… maybe you…well, if…” 

Harry sat up. “Just say it, Neville.” 

“Would you want to come with me to collect some Flitterbloom?” he said rather quickly. 

Harry stared at Neville’s expectant face. He’d heard that Neville’s grandmother had gone off on some cruise and left Neville at Hogwarts for the Easter break. Harry felt badly for him so he decided…well, what the heck. 

“Sure Neville. It sounds like fun.” 

“Really Harry? Gee, thanks!” 

“Wait a minute, where are they?” 

“What?” 

“The Flitterblooms…what do you think?” 

“Oh. They’re just below the greenhouses.” 

“Okay, cause you know I have to stay within the wards, right?” 

“Sure Harry.” 

Neville preoccupied himself with this and that while Harry got dressed. 

“Okay, I’m ready. Let’s get breakfast first then go pick the Flitter-whatevers. I’m starving.” 

Neville jumped at the opportunity. “Well here, Harry. Have one of these. My Gran sent them and they look really good.” 

He held out satin oval box and popped the green egg into his mouth. 

Harry stared at the remaining decorated, chocolate egg and it suddenly occurred to him that he hadn’t received one of Mrs. Weasley’s decorated eggs this year. 

Feeling slightly hurt, Harry reached for the egg. “Thanks Neville,” he said in a hushed voice. 

~~~~~ 

Severus strode briskly along the wooden bridge that led to the seldom-used west entrance of the castle. He was hoping to enter the castle unnoticed and avoid drawing attention to the odd hour of his arrival. He walked through the alèe then up the steps to the heavy wooden door and slipped quickly inside. The sight that greeted him— stopped him dead in his tracks. 

“What is going on here?” 

Neville practically jumped out of his skin and almost let go of Harry. “Um…nothing sir. We were just going outside for a bit.” 

“What’s wrong with Mr. Potter?” 

“Nothing sir, he’s just a little sleepy.” 

Snape stepped closer to check on Harry but Neville back up quickly in response. He was holding onto one of Harry’s arms, which was slung across the back of Neville’s neck. He’d wrapped his other arm around Harry’s waist and was barely managing to keep the semi-conscious teen in a vertical position. 

Neville’s defensive retreat spurred Snape to whip out his wand. 

“Harry! What’s wrong?” 

Harry mumbled a few incoherent sounds. 

“I’ll ask you one more time Mr. Longbottom. What is wrong with Potter and where are you two going?” 

Neville could only think about how he _had_ to get Harry out to the gates and decided to try exiting via the front entrance. 

“We’ll just go back up to our dorm.” 

He turned to go up the back staircase. 

“Stay where you are Longbottom!” bellowed Snape. 

Neville startled and lost his hold on Harry, who in turn slipped from the tenuous grasp and fell to the stone floor. 

The imperiused teen grabbed hold of Harry’s hand and tried pulling him up. 

“Don’t—Move!!” Snape roared. 

Neville let go of Harry’s hand and plastered himself against the cold stone wall. 

With his wand trained pointedly at Neville, Snape moved to Harry’s side. After determining that he was breathing the livid wizard stood and with agonizing slowness stalked toward Neville. 

“Look— at— me,” Snape commanded in an intense, acidic voice. He was now standing directly in front of the shaking, terrified teen. 

“Where were you taking Potter and what is wrong with him?” Snape hissed. 

“I have to take Harry outside the wards.” 

Severus froze. He realized instantly what was taking place. “Who did this to you?” 

“Sir, they’ll kill her if I don’t bring him.” 

“Kill who?” he pressed. 

“My Gran.” 

“Who’s going to kill her?” now Snape shouted. 

“I can’t…tell you.” Neville could barely get his words out because of the curse. 

Snape had had enough. He raised his wand quickly, “Finite.” 

Neville was hit with a wave of dizziness. He immediately slid down the wall and plopped to a seated position upon the stone then buried his face in his hands and began to cry. 

Severus was furious. He wanted to throttle Neville, but he needed information and he needed it quickly. Forcing himself to take a deep breath (and not strangle Neville on the spot) Severus reigned in his emotions and used the calmest voice he could manage to ask the young man to relay all the details of what had happened and most importantly, what he’d done to Harry. 

In just minutes, Severus had called upon Dobby to bring Dumbledore down to the remote and empty hallway. The old wizard took over the situation with Neville while Severus, with Harry slung over one shoulder, ran quickly down the stairs to his private potions lab. 

~~~~~ 

Severus had a pretty good idea what the chocolate egg had been laced with, as only two weeks ago he had received orders to brew batches of Befuddlement Draught, Confusing Concoction and a highly concentrated version of Calming Draught. Any one of these alone would relatively safe, but from the looks of Harry it would appear that they had used all three potions and it was a miracle that he was still alive. 

Severus flicked his wand as he rushed into the room causing several cauldrons, vials and brewing ingredients to levitate up toward the ceiling. He carefully laid Harry down upon the now clear worktable and then rushed over to the store cupboard to retrieve the needed antidotes and combined them into one vial. 

Then Severus returned to Harry and llifted up his head and upper torso to administer the antidotes. When he did so, Harry’s shirt front opened and Severus startled when he saw the amulet lying against Harry’s chest. 

Severus lifted the vial and poured the combined antidotes into Harry’s slightly open mouth. 

“Come on,” Severus stroked Harry's throat in a downward motion, “Swallow.” 

After a few seconds, Harry finally swallowed the antidotes. Severus released a sigh of relief and lowered his head to rest momentarily upon Harry’s chest. 

~~~~~ 

Around four o’clock that afternoon, Severus walked slowly to his kitchen to make some tea. He’d fallen asleep out on the couch in his sitting room and had only woken up when Dumbledore arrived to fill him in on the ensuing events of the day. 

He lit a fire under the pot then leaned against the counter with his eyes closed, thinking about all that Dumbledore had just told him. 

“Sir?” 

The soft voice startled Severus. 

“Harry. What are you doing up?” 

Harry felt like he’d had a terrible case of the flu. “Where am I, sir?” 

“My quarters.” Severus looked at the pale teen leaning against the door jamb. “You had better sit down before you fall down.” 

Harry moved to sit on a nearby chair, but Severus met him and escorted him over to the couch, then spread a warm throw over him. 

“How are you feeling?” 

Harry looked pale, exhausted and clearly dazed. He shrugged his shoulders, closed his eyes and laid his head back upon the pillows. 

“I was just making tea. I’ll get you some.” 

“Sir…why did he do it?” 

“So you do remember,” Severus answered from the kitchen. “I wondered if you would.” 

“I remember bits and pieces.” 

Severus returned with a warm mug of tea and offered it to Harry. 

“I ate that egg..." He raised a hand to his aching forehead, "then everything started spinning, but for some reason it didn't seem to matter." 

He watched as Severus sat down across from him. “I should have defended myself.” 

“The egg contained two different Confusing potions and a concentrated Calming Draught. That is why you could not react.” 

“But why did he do it?” 

Severus relayed all that Dumbledore had just told him: that Neville had been placed under an Imperius Curse and that the Death Eaters had threatened to kill Neville’s grandmother if he was unsuccessful in getting Harry out beyond the wards. 

“Is he okay?” 

“Mr. Longbottom?” 

Harry nodded. 

"Madam Pomfrey and the Headmaster are seeing to his needs." 

"And his grandmother?" 

Aurors were sent to her residence and rescued her. She was uninjured, but St. Mungos wants to keep her a couple of days for observation. Those who were guarding her managed to escape. 

“Neville won’t get in any trouble…will he? It wasn’t his fault.” 

Severus was impressed by the fact that even though Neville’s actions had almost killed Harry, his main concern right now was Neville’s welfare. 

“This is really going to upset him,” Harry continued. He then laid his head against the back of the couch and shivered a little. Despite the tea and blanket he still felt cold. “Poor Neville.” 

Severus pointed his wand toward the hearth and increased the size of the fire. “Mr. Longbottom was clearly being controlled by the curse. To answer your question—no, charges will not be leveled against him.” Severus took a sip of his tea. “With regards to his personal state…I believe the Headmaster is going to ask your counselor if she will speak with him.” 

“That’s good.” Harry sid in relief. He sat quietly for a bit and stared at a grouping of botanical prints on the opposite wall. 

“Sir, do you like roses?” 

Severus startled slightly at the unexpected change of topic. “Why do you ask?” 

“You have paintings of roses over there.” 

It seemed to Severus that Harry had an uncanny knack of catching him off guard, particularly in matters of a personal nature. “Well, as a matter of fact, I do,” his voice sounded a bit defensive. 

“So do I.” 

Harry’s admission earned two raised eyebrows. “You?” 

Harry snapped out of his daze a bit and turned to look at his professor. “Yeah, me. I always did the gardening for my aunt. She has lots of roses.” 

Severus silently recalled seeing all the roses in the Dursley’s garden that night last summer when he was sent to remove the evidence of Arthur’s Bat Bogy Hexes. 

Harry lolled his head back against the couch. “I have a favorite one,” he sighed. “It’s called ‘Peace’.” 

Severus fingered the lip of his mug. “I am familiar with that cultivar.” Then he paused a moment, debating. These forays into personal communication were still rather new to him and left Severus feeling uncomfortable. In all his life, he’d never divulged the simple fact that he, Severus Snape, feared potion master and double spy, had a favorite rose. 

“I too have a favorite rose,” he said softly. 

Harry looked over with his droopy eyes. “So, which one is it?” 

Severus looked down, a bit embarrassed. “Souvenier de Madame Lèonie Viennot.” 

“You’re putting me on.”

“Not at all.”

“ Is there really a rose with a name like that?” 

Then a miracle happened, Severus Snape actually chuckled. “Yes Harry, there is a rose named Souvenier de Madame Lèonie Viennot. And do you know what?” Severus added with a coy smile. 

“What?” 

“Its coloring is very similar to your Peace rose.” 

“Really?” 

Severus nodded and a little spot in his heart warmed at the fact that here he was sharing a quiet conversation about one of the few things in his life he considered—beautiful. 

“I’ll show you a picture someday.” 

“I’d like that.” Then Harry offered, “Sir…thank you for letting me stay here and not taking me up to the infirmary.” He glanced tentatively over at his professor.

Severus looked up and their eyes met and held in a moment of understanding. “You’re welcome, Harry,” 

Severus sat quietly sipping his tea while Harry dozed. He thought about all the little instances Harry had…well, tugged at his heart. He thought of how Harry could say things that would leave Severus feeling slightly off kilter and gave him pause to think. 

He recalled that presence that had come to stay with him after he was injured last October and then today, the flood of relief that had washed through him when Harry swallowed the antidote. 

Severus realized what was happening. It was unsettling, and the part of him that dictated personal isolation suggested it would be best to distance himself from Harry. But his slowly awakening heart had a different opinion. 

Severus looked over at the sleeping man across from him and recalled how it had felt to have Harry’s love and protection be a part of him, even though it had been with him for only a brief amount of time. All his life Severus had isolated himself from others, but he was wondering now if he might dare to take a chance at friendship… a friendship with Harry. 

 

~~~~~


	16. The Next Day

  
Author's notes: From looking at the read counts, it seems as though about 100 of you did not read chapter 12 Fallout. Something happens in that chapter which is key to the story, so if you didn't read Fallout, please go read it. It's actually one of my favorite chapters. A  
big thanks to Steppenwolf for editing this chapter from her sickbed (a bad case of the flu). Please send warm fuzzies her way that she will get better soon. As always, all rights belong to JKR.  


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16\. The Next Day 

 

Severus grabbed hold of the cold metal— then paused. 

He had a choice. Right now, on this side of the door he had a choice. But once he turned the knob and walked into that room, his life would be in the hands of a deranged wizard. 

The Dark Lord was certain to be livid, upset at the very least. So the foreboding silence emanating from the other side of the door made Severus uneasy. He had no way of knowing what might greet him when he entered this room. 

Before, that hadn’t mattered. No one would have cared if he lived or died, except Albus and two house elves. But now… 

Pushing all of that from his mind, Severus drew a deep breath, occluded his mind, closed off his soul—and turned the knob. 

~~~~~ 

Neville inspected the clothing he’d packed to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. Satisfied, he fastened the two buckles securing the valise and had just reached for his Mimbulus Mimbletonia when he heard the door open behind him. 

He whirled around and his heart sank when he saw Harry staring at him from the doorway of the sixth year boy’s dorm. 

“Harry, I was trying to leave before you got here.” 

“Neville, we need to talk.” 

Neville lowered his head in embarrassment. He knew that Harry was right and that he, Neville needed to apologize. But he was so utterly ashamed of himself that he had not been able to find the strength to go find Harry, to look him in the eye and beg his forgiveness. 

“Please,” continued Harry as he closed the door, “I want to apologize.” 

Neville’s head snapped up and his face expressed the disbelief he felt at Harry’s words. 

“What do you mean 'apologize'? _I’m_ the one who needs to apologize to _you._ ” 

Harry shook his head. “No Neville. Don’t you see?” He walked across the room. “You and your grandmother were hurt because of me.” 

“You’re not making any sense Harry,” responded a completely baffled Neville. _”I’m_ the one who hurt you! Thank goodness the Headmaster stopped me in time.” 

Neville’s words confirmed to Harry what the Headmaster had told him that morning. That in order to protect Snape’s façade as a Death Eater, Dumbledore had Obliterated Neville’s memory of his encounter with Snape the previous morning. 

Harry felt guilty at having to lie to his friend, but there was no choice. “Yeah, I know…but Neville, it wasn’t your fault. It was the Death Eaters. They used you to get to me.” 

“Yeah… and they picked me because I’m weak and stupid.” 

“Oh Neville,” Harry said with a sigh. “You’re not stupid.” 

He moved over to Neville’s bed and sank down on to the mattress. 

“You’re plenty smart; you just don’t have much confidence in yourself.” 

Harry lowered his head and rested it in the palms of his hands. 

“You were hurt because of me, and I’m sorry for that.” Then he continued in a soft voice, barely more than a whisper. “I’m just grateful you didn’t end up dead like my parents and Sirius… and Cedric. Or like what happened to...” 

Harry couldn’t finish the sentence. 

Neville stared down at his upset friend. He hadn’t even considered the scenario from this perspective. Slowly, Neville placed the valise on the floor and sat down on the bed next to Harry. 

“Look, I know I don’t have any right to say this.” 

“You have every right, Neville. Just go ahead and say it.” Harry assumed that Neville was about to agree that he who was the root cause of what had happened. 

“You’re _not_ the one that caused all those deaths, or what happened to…Anthony.” Neville said the name softly. “All of that happened because of You Know Who, not you.” 

The two young men sat quietly for a while, side by side upon the bed. Then Harry spoke in a thin voice. 

“I thought that with me staying in the castle no one else would get hurt.” He shook his head. “But it’s not working out that way.” 

The fact that Snape had been summoned that morning didn’t make matters any better. 

Harry lifted his line of vision to look out the window. “After what happened to,” he tipped his head and shrugged his shoulder instead of saying Anthony’s name, “I know I can never get involved with anyone else. I can never put anyone in that kind of danger ever again.” 

Harry dropped his head again and started worrying his fingers. “But now he’s coming after my friends and I don’t know how to stop him.” 

Sitting next to Harry, listening as he spoke of the enormous burden weighing on him, Neville’s worries of what people might think of him after the news of this incident got out seemed rather small and insignificant. 

“Harry, why does all of this have to be on your shoulders? Why can’t someone find a way to help?” 

“Dumbledore has tried…” 

“Well, maybe he needs to try harder,” Neville remarked emphatically. 

He hated seeing Harry so distraught over something that he couldn’t change. Neville’s concern made him want to reach out to help, and the terrible guilt that had weighed upon him seemed to lighten. 

“Listen, I’m Flooing out of the Headmaster’s office in just a bit; why don’t you come with me? You could ask him to help.” 

Harry smiled at Neville’s innocence. 

“That’s a really good idea Neville,” he placated, “but I’m supposed to go see Madame Pomfrey in a few minutes.” 

The alarmed look on Neville’s face spurred Harry to explain. 

“She just wants to give me the once over. You know how she is.” 

“Oh. Yeah, I know.” 

“But I’ll definitely talk to Dumbledore this week.” 

Neville smiled then stood up, “Well, I have to get going.” 

It was only then that Harry actually noticed the packed valise. “Wait a minute Neville, where are you going?” 

“Home,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders. “The Healers are releasing Gran this morning and she wants me to come home for the rest of the break.” 

“Are you guys going to be okay though?” 

“Don’t worry Harry. The Ministry assigned us a couple of Aurors to guard our house. We’ll be fine.” 

Neville went to pick up his bag but paused and turned back to face Harry. “So we’re okay…you and I?” 

Harry stood up. “Yeah Neville, we’re okay.” He raised his arm and gave Neville a gentle one-handed shove. 

Neville grabbed his stuff, walked over to the door and then called back, “Well, have a nice Easter.” 

_Yeah…right._ “You too Neville. And say ‘Hi’ to your Gran for me.” 

~~~~~ 

That afternoon Harry lay upon his bed taking it easy, as per Madame Pomfrey’s orders, and studied the treatise Channon had given him—A Practical Guide to Concurrent Spell Casting. 

Above him floated various objects belonging to his dorm mates. The ceiling was laden with Quidditch Weekly magazines, dirty socks, textbooks and the like. 

The first chapter dealt solely on multiple castings of a single spell. Harry had chosen an easy charm: Wingardium Leviosa. 

He had no problem casting simultaneously the simple charm multiple times and was actually enjoying himself. So he attempted to see if he could cast another type of charm while still maintaining what he’d already cast. 

He broke off another chunk of the chocolate Easter egg from Mrs. Weasley (which had finally arrived and was certified as ‘safe for consumption’ by Dumbledore) and eyed Ron’s pillow. Silently and without his wand, he performed a Summoning Charm. 

Nothing. The pillow sat scrunched up at the head of Ron’s bed. 

“Damn.” 

He picked up his wand and tried it again, but still silently. 

Again, the pillow just sat there. 

“What the hell?” 

He huffed and then tried it again, but this time he incanted the charm verbally. 

“Accio.” 

The pillow flew across the room and Harry had to grab it so that it didn’t smack him in the face. At that very moment, Fawkes suddenly appeared over his bed in a flash of light. 

The disruption of the pillow and the Phoenix combined caused Harry to lose his concentration, and all of the previously floating objects came crashing to the floor. 

Beating his wings, the large scarlet bird hovered in place over Harry’s bed and watched as the objects rained down around him. He then eyed Harry. 

“I was practicing,” Harry offered defensively. 

Without further adieu, the Familiar dropped the letter he held in his talons and then disappeared as quickly as he’d appeared. 

_God, he must think I’m a dolt._

Harry snatched up the letter and tore back the flap. 

_  
Dear Harry,   
If your schedule allows, would you be so kind as to visit me at your earliest convenience?   
These days I very much fancy Ice Mice.   
Yours,   
Albus Dumbledore_

_I wonder why he wants to see me?_

~~~~~ 

Minutes later Harry was climbing up the spiral staircase. All the way over from Gryffindor Tower he’d grown increasingly anxious over the possibility that something else may have happened. 

He knocked softly on the office door. 

“Enter.” 

Harry peered around the corner of the door, checking to see if any officials might be lurking on the other side. 

“Ah Harry, do come in,” Dumbledore said in a cheery voice. 

Harry was beside himself with worry. “Sir, has something happened? Is Professor Sn…?” 

“Hello Harry.” 

The familiar voice came from the far left side of the office. Harry startled and turned to stare aghast at the unexpected sight of Remus. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked in that soft spoken voice of his. 

Harry was too shocked to respond. 

“Nothing to say?” 

“I…What are you doing here?” Harry responded bluntly. 

Remus recoiled slightly at Harry’s curt tone of voice. 

Harry looked back and forth between Remus and Dumbledore. He moved quickly over to the old wizard’s side and spoke in a low voice. “Sir, why did you send for me? Is Professor Snape all right?” 

Dumbledore took in the worried expression on Harry’s face. “Try not to worry my boy. Professor Snape is very skilled. You must have faith in his abilities.” 

Despite the consoling words, Harry was still tense and he snuck a sideways glance across the room at Remus. 

“Please try to calm yourself,” whispered Dumbledore. “You don’t want to set off a surge.” 

Harry turned back with a start. “You’re right sir. I’m sorry.” 

“Come now, have a seat and I’ll get you some tea.” Dumbledore steered Harry over to a chair, then whispered in his ear, “And try not to worry about Professor Snape.” 

Remus offered some attempts at light conversation, but his questions and remarks received only one worded answers from Harry. Giving up, he turned to Dumbledore who had returned with Harry’s tea, and proceeded to deliver his report. 

Harry sat sipping his tea as he listened to Remus discuss what he’d been doing for the Order over the past few months. Apparently Remus actually had been traveling quite a bit and all of his activities needed to be kept quiet as he’d been working on securing alliances with a few of the less popular societies of magical creatures. 

After listening to the two wizards for over an hour, Harry realized that indeed it would have been impossible for Remus to come and visit. And as the tea slowly drained from Harry’s cup, the resentment that had built up within him eased. 

When Harry began to engage in the conversation, Dumbledore excused himself from the room, claiming he had another matter which needed his attention. 

Harry and Remus continued their conversation, and even though Harry wasn’t angry at Remus, he still felt that a chasm now existed between them. So much had happened over the past year, not to mention all the other critical episodes in Harry’s life since the death of his parents, and whatever the reason was, Remus happened to never be there. 

“So Harry, what are your plans for the remainder of the school term?” 

Harry shrugged his shoulders. “Well, just school and Quidditch I guess.” 

“And how are you doing these days with regards to…” Remus made a small gesture but didn’t finish the sentence. 

“To what?” 

“You know…dating.” 

Harry quickly looked down and his features tensed. “I’m not,” he said softly. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” 

“It’s all right. I just don’t have time for that sort of thing.” 

They sat in silence as the mantle clock ticked away the seconds. Remus was frustrated at himself for his blunder and Harry just wished this little chat would be over with. 

“How about your training? Do you like Professor Jackson?” 

“He’s great. He’s taught me a lot.” 

Again, the silence. 

“Such as?” 

“Um, we’ve done silent spells and wandless spells.” Harry started pulling at the knee of his trousers. “After this break we’ll start working on casting simultaneous spells. You know, stuff like that.” 

Remus grinned at Harry's nonchalant attitude with regards to his magical abilities. 

“That’s very impressive Harry. You should be proud of what you’ve accomplished.” 

Harry definitely did not want the conversation to go down this track, so he quickly changed the subject. 

“So how long are you here for?” 

“I’m afraid I’ll have to leave as soon as I collect my new supply of Wolfsbane potion. 

Harry’s heart sank right down to the floor. _So that’s why you came._ “Oh.” _I should have known he wouldn’t have come all this way just to see me._

“Speaking of which,” Remus rose from his chair, “I wonder if Severus has returned?” 

“He has indeed,” Albus responded as he stepped from the Floo, “and he is waiting for you in his lab.” 

Remus offered his farewells to Dumbledore and Harry, shook their hands and then departed. 

Harry walked over to the tall window, set down his cup and stared out to the lake. 

“Are you all right my boy?” 

Harry nodded his head. “Yeah,” his tone of voice was unconvincing. “Is Professor Snape okay?” 

“He is indeed. And might I add his meeting with Voldemort was quite illuminating.” 

Grateful for the change in subject, Harry turned enthusiastically. “It was?” 

“Very much so.” Dumbledore sat down and patted his hand upon the settee. When Harry sat down next to him the old wizard looked intently into those green eyes. 

“Harry, are you aware of any connection between yourself and Voldemort?” 

This change of subject was more then Harry had anticipated. “A connection? You mean my scar?” 

“No, not your scar.” 

Harry was at a loss. “Uh, no. Not that I know of.” 

Dumbledore leaned back and lightly brushed away tiny pieces of lint from his lavender robe. “Have you experienced any nightmares or headaches since the night of Samhain?” 

“No sir. You know that.” 

“I want to be sure of the facts.” 

“But why sir? What’s this all about?” 

“Apparently,” Dumbledore angled himself a bit more in Harry’s direction, “ever since your counter attack upon Voldemort last October, he hasn’t been himself.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I’m sure you’ve noticed that the attacks on the Embassies never resumed.” 

“Of course I noticed that. Who wouldn’t? But I thought that maybe he was doing some other stuff.” 

“Well, the other _stuff_ as you put it, has been relatively minor in comparison. And now today when Professor Snape met with him…” 

“What happened sir?” Harry injected anxiously. 

“Nothing happened, per say. It was the lack of response from Voldemort that Professor Snape found surprising.” 

“You mean about what happened yesterday.” 

Dumbledore nodded. 

“So?” Harry pressed. 

“Tell me Harry, what would you have expected his response to be?” 

“I’d of thought he’d be really angry.” 

“As would I.” 

“But he wasn’t?” Harry asked incredulously. 

“Professor Snape described Voldemort’s attitude as _dispirited._ ” 

“That’s odd.” 

“My feelings exactly.” 

Dumbledore started bobbing his foot up and down and Harry watched the tassel of the plum colored shoe bounce around from the motion. 

“So what do you think it all means sir?” he asked, still watching the tassel. 

“I believe Harry that your counter attack had a profound affect on Tom. I don’t fully understand the situation, but no doubt a situation does exist.” 

“Wow.” 

“There is another topic which we need to discuss.” 

That statement put Harry on guard. “What?” 

“In my discussions with Mr. Longbottom, he informed me that he tried several times to coerce you into leaving the castle. Is that true?” 

“Yeah, I guess so.” 

“And you didn’t find that strange?” 

“But it was Neville,” Harry pleaded. “Don’t get me wrong; he’s my friend and all that, but Neville’s a little um…weird.” Harry ducked his head slightly. 

“Ah yes. Well, never the matter—in the future Harry you must be on your guard. Report any odd behavior from any of the students or faculty.” 

“Yes sir.” 

“Be wary if someone hands you something to touch or offers you food to partake.” 

“Yes sir,” Harry answered contritely. “I’m sorry, sir.” 

“You have no need to apologize. And mind you, I do not wish for you to become paranoid; you simply must be on your guard.” 

“The charm is still in affect, right sir?” 

“That it is. You cannot be taken past the wards against your will. But that doesn’t prevent someone from trying to Portkey you out, or as in Mr. Longbottom’s case—from drugging you. The only one who would suffer in either case would be you, I’m afraid.” 

Harry entertained the thought of a Portkey slamming him into Dumbledore’s protective ward. 

“Let’s just consider this a lesson learned and move forward.” 

“Okay sir.” 

Dumbledore stood up. “I don’t know about you, but I am quite hungry. Shall we walk down for dinner?” 

Harry was surprised at the invitation. “Yes sir, thank you.” It had been a long afternoon and now that Harry thought about it, he was quite hungry. 

“Oh, by the way, how are you progressing with you assignment from Professor Jackson?” 

“Really good. That multiple casting stuff is kind of fun.” 

“I had a feeling that would be the case,” Dumbledore responded as he went to open the door. “That is why I’ve asked Professor Snape if he will work with you this week, in Professor Jackson’s absence.” 

“Oh…okay.” 

The Headmaster walked ahead of Harry as they descended the spiral staircase and so he didn’t see Harry as he smiled at hearing this news. 

 

~~~~~


	17. Change of Tide

  
Author's notes: I cannot thank Steppenwolf enough for her fabulous and speedy editing, even when ill. I'm one lucky author to have such a great beta. All rights belong to JKR.  


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17\. Change of Tide 

 

“That was super!” exclaimed Channon just before popping another Bertie Botts Bean into his mouth. 

“Really Harry, that was quite impressive. It would seem Professor Snape didn’t give me the full story.” 

“What do you mean?” Harry tensed. “What did he say?” 

“Only that you made progress.” 

“That was it?” 

Channon nodded. “I would say you made _great_ progress.” 

“Thanks,” Harry sighed with relief. 

“Is everything all right? Did something happen between you two?” 

“Oh no, it’s just…” Harry fished, “It’s just that I worked really hard over break to try and get this multicasting thing down.” 

Channon appraised Harry discerningly. He was holding something back, but Channon decided not to press the matter. “I wouldn’t say you’ve mastered multicasting…” 

“I know. I didn’t mean it that way.” 

“Come on, let’s get back to it.” Channon turned Harry to face the center of the room. “You’re doing well with multiple charms and combining charms and jinxes. How about you multicast a couple of regular spells and we’ll add a jinx and one hex.” 

Harry started. “You’re kidding.” 

“Not at all. Let’s see…” Channon stared up toward the ceiling and tapped his chin. “What would be a good hex?” 

~~~~~ 

As Harry stood in the Room of Requirement getting ready to cast his spells, Severus was on his knees back in the Voldemort’s drawing room waiting his turn to be summoned. 

Just as he had the previous fall, the Dark Lord was holding sessions with his Death Eaters. But unlike the previous time when he’d met with each one individually, tonight he summoned them in small groups. 

Again, Severus was the last one called and as it turned out, he was the only Death Eater to be called individually. He kept his head lowered as he went to kneel before the Dark Lord. 

“No Severus, sit here.” 

Severus sat down in a nearby chair and thought how the Dark Lord’s voice still sounded weak. 

“Look at me,” ordered Voldemort. 

Severus hesitated at the unexpected request but finally glanced over at the Dark Lord. 

“Do I appear any different to you?” 

“No, my Lord.” 

Voldemort lifted one corner of his mouth in a teasing smile and then casually waved his hand across his face, cancelling the Glamour. 

“I should have expected this,” Severus hid his surprise at the sight which now greeted him. “My Lord, you are not well.” 

“You are mistaken, Severus,” Voldemort retorted, despite his sunken cheeks, pallid complexion and the dark circles under his eyes. 

“I _have_ been ill, but I am improving. Can you guess my ailment?” 

“I wouldn’t dare.” 

“Oh please Severus, take a guess,” Voldemort wheedled. 

“Does this have anything to do with Potter?” 

“Partially.” 

All this time Severus had thought that the Dark Lord was experiencing something akin to what he himself had been experiencing. But if that was the case, the Dark Lord would surely never divulge such a fact, that Harry’s counterattack was wrecking havoc on him. No, this had to be something else. 

“This all started with Samhain?” 

“Yes.” 

_All of those attacks upon the embassies_ thought Severus. _Afterward he’d been bed ridden for days and had obviously struggled now for months…_ “Burnout?” 

Voldemort nodded. “Very good. Not total burnout mind you, but it was a severe case.” 

“My Lord, is there anything I can do to help?” 

Voldemort raised a hand. “I am much improved. Besides, you know as well as I… the only cure for burnout is rest. But I’ve grown tired with this quietude, and thus the impetus for my little gathering this evening.” 

"And what is it my Lord requires of me?” 

“Your only task is to continue making the potions I request, that… and to keep an eye on Potter.” 

“Of course, my Lord.” 

Voldemort seemed to take an interest in the carvings of the wooden chair handle and he traced his finger along its edges as he spoke. “Even though Dumbledore is keeping the boy under his wing, there is always the possibility for error.” 

“And you want me to be ready for such an occurrence.” 

Voldemort looked up and his red eyes peered at Severus as he drew a subtle leer, “Yes Severus. That is exactly what I want.” 

The Dark Lord continued to stare at the carvings. “I intend to do away with that boy and I shall succeed. But I am finished with wasting my every waking moment preoccupied with his activities. I will leave that up to you and to the others who have been assigned to the same task. Do I make myself clear?” 

Severus’s ebony eyes peered back with an equal hardness. “Perfectly my Lord…perfectly.” 

~~~~~ 

All eyes watched as Tonks stood up from the Pensive. She gave a huff as she pushed her orange hair back into place. 

“Well?” asked Arthur. 

“Not a clue. Never seen the likes before.” 

Dumbledore stood up, Accio’d the Pensive to him and then set about retrieving Severus’s memory. “Well, this is a puzzle.” 

“How is it possible that not one of us knows where this place is?” 

“The world’s a big place Tonks,” stated Mad-eye. 

“But Severus said he thought it must be on the island,” countered Molly. 

“Apparation and Portkey travel times can be misleading,” added Shacklebolt. “This place could be in France, Germany or Ireland for that matter.” 

All the members of the Order sitting around the kitchen table at Grimmauld Place sighed in unison. 

“I suppose we’re back to square one,” Albus surmised with dejection. “We’ll just have to hope that another opportunity presents itself to Severus.” 

“This is so frustrating, and I’m worried about these assignments You Know Who gave to the Death Eaters,” Molly added as she began clearing away the empty tea cups. “What do you think he’s up to now?” 

“At least we’ve made good progress with the new Muggle Diplomatic Relations policy,” chimed Arthur. “That should be of some help if he tries anything like he did last October.” 

“With Tom’s current condition, he’ll be unable to assist the Death Eaters in whatever their assignment is,” critiqued Albus. “No, I believe whatever he has planned— it will be a focused attack, be it on a single place or a single individual.” 

~~~~~ 

“We’re going to clobber Slytherin.” 

“Ron, you’re going to jinx us talking like that,” reprimanded Harry as he crawled into bed. 

“No way, Harry. You guys have it all over those snakes” Seamus exclaimed. “There’s nothing anyone could say that would jinx you guys.” 

“I agree with Harry,” added Dean as he turned out his light. “It’s tempting fate.” 

Harry glanced over when the door to the dorm opened and he watched as Neville slipped quietly into the room. 

Everyone had turned out their lights now except for Neville, and he quickly set about getting ready to retire for the night. 

The experience of being cursed, his grandmother being held captive and then damn near killing Harry had weighed heavy on the young man. It didn’t help matters any that the Headmaster had addressed the student body upon their return, warning them to be on their guard lest they fall into a similar situation. Or that each Head of House had held meetings with their houses to go over precautionary measures in an attempt to avoid becoming the next instrument for the Death Eaters. Or that Professor Jackson had spent an entire week with each DADA class, third year and over, reviewing the Imperius Curse, Portkey operations and the like. 

All of that had only managed to shed a continued spotlight on Neville, and he’d been making it a point to remain as scarce as possible. 

“Good night Neville,” Harry called over when he saw the light go out. 

“Oh, you too Harry. Good night everyone.” 

“Goodnight Nev,” they responded in unison. 

Harry smiled to himself as he rolled onto his side. He was pleased and relieved at how supportive everyone had been toward Neville. _I guess it will just take time for Nev to get over it._

He closed his eyes and thought about his training session with Channon that night. _I wonder how he knew? Snape would never have said anything._

Just thinking about what had happened last Saturday morning was enough to rouse Harry. _Oh fuck, not now. I gotta get some sleep._

But the more he tried not to think about what happened in that training session with Snape, the more he wound up doing just the opposite, and he grew harder and harder. _God damn it!_

“Harry. Where are you going? You need a good night's sleep. The game is…” 

“Ron,” Harry snapped back in a whispered voice. “I know the game is tomorrow. I’m going to the loo. Is that okay?” 

“Oh, sorry mate. Guess I’m just nervous.” 

“Yeah well, whatever. Just go to sleep.” 

Harry hurried down the hallway and hoped that no one would see him with his tented pajama bottoms. 

Luckily everyone had turned in and the bathroom was empty. Harry slipped into the cubicle intending to take a quick cold shower. It had been six months since Samhain and in all that time he’d felt dead as far as his groin was concerned. 

But then last Saturday, when Harry’s Hex Reversing hex had backfired causing him to fall on top of Snape and he felt…well— Snape, he couldn’t believe it. He was still in awe by the size of it. 

Harry had meant to turn on just a little bit of hot water, just so that he wouldn’t freeze to death. But somehow he absently turned on more and more, and instead of a quick cold shower, he lingered under the warm water and began stroking himself. Just thinking about Snape’s size, not to mention how big he would be when he was hard would have been enough to make Harry come in only a matter of seconds. But added to that was the awkward week of Potions classes. 

Every time Snape had walked by, or had stood next to Harry or even behind him to inspect his and Hermione’s work, all Harry could think about was that Snape’s large cock was right next to him. Harry had even chanced a sideways glance, knowing that _it_ was right there next to him behind those black robes. But Snape had caught him at it, and he had leaned down and whispered in Harry’s ear. 

_Try to concentrate on your work, Harry._

The fact that Snape hadn’t hit him upside the head, but had instead been understanding, left Harry confused yet intrigued. 

He smiled, tipped his head back under the warm water and stroked himself as he thought about that large, large cock. 

~~~~~ 

Unlike Ron had predicted, Gryffindor was not ‘clobbering’ Slytherin in the Quidditch Finals. No, the game was turning out to be one of those _on the edge of your seat, nail-biter_ sort of a games and the score had been neck-and-neck for over three hours now. 

All the action thus far had centered upon the Chasers, the Beaters and the Keepers and each of them were playing at the top of their game. 

But while all of this activity played out below and the minutes ticked into hours, Harry and Draco never let up with their own job of trying to find the Snitch. Even though neither had an opportunity to score, it was imperative that they keep tabs on its whereabouts—just in case an opportunity presented itself. 

That opportunity came three and a half hours into the match. 

Gryffindor scored when Blaise Zabini missed blocking one of Katie’s hits and then before he could recover, Jack Sloper’s missed-hit Bludger glanced off the Slytherin’s shoulder allowing Alicia’s Quaffle to get by. 

Gryffindor was now up by forty points. 

Then, when Vaisey tried blatching Katie, Slytherin was penalized ten points for the foul. Then, Harry shifted into gear. 

He had just seen the Snitch when the foul occurred, so he took off as fast as he could to fly across the pitch. The Snitch was hovering right at the top of the center Slytherin hoop. 

He chose a direct path, but he had to fly through enemy territory to get there. His one advantage was speed. No one could fly as fast as Harry. Hell, at this speed it was a challenge to even keep him in sight. 

Draco saw the Snitch a moment after Harry had, and tried as best he could to catch him, but it was an impossible task. 

Harry whipped past the hoop and grabbed the Snitch, thus ending the game and securing the Quidditch Cup for Gryffindor. The crowd erupted in a cacophony of cheers and boos. Hermione grabbed Neville, who’d been sitting next to her, and gave him a kiss on the lips. She then started to jump up and down in her joy, while a stunned Neville placed his fingers tentatively upon his lips. 

The entire team circled around Harry and they slowly lowered themselves to the ground, relishing in their accomplishment and drinking in the sounds of jubilation pouring out from the stands. 

~~~~~ 

“Harry, will you hurry the fuck up! We want to get up to the party.” 

“You guys go on. Neville will walk up with me, right Neville?” 

“Sure Harry.” 

“Oh all right,” replied Ron. “But hurry up.” 

Ron and Dean left to walk up to the castle, leaving Harry and Neville in the Gryffindor changing room. 

“You okay there Neville?” asked Harry as he toweled his hair dry. “You look a little odd.” 

Neville had been running his fingers along his lips. “I’m okay Harry. It’s just… Oh, it’s nothing.” 

“No, tell me. What were you going to say?” 

“You promise you won’t laugh?” 

Harry sat down next to Neville and pulled on one of his shoes. “I promise I won’t laugh.” 

“Well, right after you caught the Snitch…everyone got really excited.” 

“Yeah, I noticed.” Harry had finished lacing up one shoe and was just pulling on the other. 

“Anyway, in all the excitement, Hermione… She… Well…” 

“Just say it already, will you?” 

“Harry, she kissed me!” 

Harry turned and stared at Neville. He wasn’t sure if he should lie and congratulate Neville, or be honest. He chose to be honest. 

“Hey there Neville, you know that Ron and…” 

“Oh don’t worry Harry. I know Hermione and Ron are a couple. It’s just that… well, that’s the first time a girl has ever kissed me. I didn’t think any of them would ever want to.” 

“Oh, Neville, why would you say something like that?” 

“Come on Harry. It’s not like I’m you.” 

“You must be thinking of someone else. Besides, there are plenty of girls that like you.” 

“Oh yeah? Name one.” 

“Luna Lovegood,” Harry said emphatically. 

“Luna?” 

“Yeah, Luna.” 

“How do you know?” 

“Cause she looks at you Neville, all the time.” 

“Really?” 

“You’re so blinkered.” He gave Neville a friendly shove. “Come on, let’s head on up. We’ll stop by Ravenclaw and invite her to the party.” 

“Oh…I don’t know Harry.” 

“It’ll be fine. The worse she can say is ‘no’.” 

“Oh well, all right. But wait just a minute, I gotta loo.” 

“Take your time.” Harry proceeded to shove his things in his rucksack while Neville headed off to the loo. 

As Neville was just finishing up, he heard a commotion out in the locker room. Harry called out, there was some wand fire and then a crashing sound. 

Neville thought his heart may have skipped a beat, but he managed to pull out his wand and tip toe quietly to the lavatory entrance. He peeked around the corner and saw Harry lying unconscious upon the floor, above him stood a man Neville had never seen before. Then, the stranger pulled an object from his pocket and went to lay it on top of Harry’s chest. Neville sprang into action. 

“Stupify!” 

The stranger went flying backwards and landed in a heap next to the lockers. 

Shocked that he’d managed to actually hit his target, Neville ran to Harry and shook his shoulder. 

“Harry? Wake up. Please, I don’t know what to do.” 

Harry was totally out and he had a wound right over his temple. 

Neville thought about running to the door to call for help, but what if there was an accomplice waiting out there. 

He knew what he had to do. It didn’t matter now that he’d never been able to accomplish it in the DA. Harry needed help, and it was up to Neville to get it. 

He walked over to the door and opened it a crack. When he didn’t see anyone, he opened it a bit more. 

Neville knew he needed to think of something happy, so he thought about how wonderful it felt when Hermione had kissed him. He pointed his wand and called out, “Expecto Patronum!” 

Neville watched in disbelief as a pale silvery peacock emerged from his wand and flew toward the castle to summon help. 

~~~~~ 

“Albus, will you please do something about the crowd outside the doors? They’re making too much noise.” 

Dumbledore was standing at the side of Harry’s bed. “Of course, Poppy.” 

He patted the teen’s shoulder then moved off toward the infirmary entrance. The Headmaster was upset that, once again, Harry had come to harm here on Hogwarts grounds. _I must find a way to prevent these occurrences,_ he charged himself. 

“Madame Pomfrey, can’t I please just go? I’m okay,” pleaded Harry. 

“You stay right where you are Mr. Potter, or I’ll place a binding blanket on you.” 

Defeated, Harry sighed and laid his head down upon the pillow. “Yes ma’am.” 

“Don’t fret Harry,” Channon said softly. He was sitting on the edge of the bed. “It’s probably best you let her keep an eye on you…just to be on the safe side.” 

Harry raised a hand to his aching forehead. “I can’t believe this happened. What good is multicasting when someone can sneak up from behind and Stupify me.” 

“That has to do with strategy, a totally different subject.” Channon stared out the window and squinted his eyes. 

“Uh oh, what are you planning now?” asked Harry. 

Channon smiled. “How did you know I…” 

“You were doing that squinting thing,” Harry interrupted. “That always means you’re coming up with something new for me to learn.” 

His professor chuckled. “I suppose you’re right.” 

“So? What is it?” 

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow after class, that is if Madame Pomfrey releases you.” 

“I hope so. I really hate,” his sentence was interrupted as he yawned, “staying in here.” 

“Looks like you better get some sleep.” Channon stood up and turned to see Albus approach with Neville at his side. 

“Harry, there’s someone who wants to be certain that you are all right,” the Headmaster announced. 

“You okay?” asked Neville. 

“Yeah, I’m okay. If it wasn’t for you,” Harry yawned again, “I’d probably be splattered all over one of the wards.” 

“I doubt you would have _splattered,_ Mr. Potter.” Dumbledore smiled. 

“Anyway, thanks Neville,” Harry said softly. He was really starting to get sleepy. 

“I was only able to help cause of everything you taught us in DA.” 

Harry smiled but drifted off before he could say anything else. 

“You showed true courage tonight, Mr. Longbottom,” said Dumbledore. 

“Thank you, sir.” Neville looked down, “But…” 

“But what?” 

“Sir, I wasn’t brave tonight. I was scared." His voice quavered a bit, “I just didn’t want Harry to get hurt.” 

“Mr. Longbottom, one is courageous when one demonstrates bravery despite their fear.” 

Dumbledore placed his hand on Neville’s shoulder. “Please look at me, Mr. Longbottom.” 

Neville raised his eyes. “Yes sir?” 

“You saved Harry’s life tonight. I thank you and I honor you for your courage.” 

Neville could hardly believe the Headmaster had just said that to him and his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. But at the same time he also felt a rare sense of pride. 

 

~~~~~ 

Author notes:  
In canon, Neville did not have a Patronus, but he had to have one for this chapter. So off I went doing research to find out what Neville's character symbolizes. I found a wonderful website that discusses this very topic. (Here is the link)  
http://www.harrypotterforseekers.com/symbols/characters.php

So, Neville's character symbolizes the Gatekeeper. Now I needed an animal that symbolizes the Gatekeeper, and that is how I came up with a peacock (it's from a moslem legend which states that the peacock is the Gatekeeper for paradise). Anyway, there you have it. I kind of like the idea that Neville (who to me always symbolized the ugly duckling) would have such a beautiful Patronus.


	18. Guarded Questions

  
Author's notes: As Harry's sixth year draws to a close, so does this dark time in his life. Chapters 19 and 20 will mark a shift- Harry moving into brighter times and Severus coming to terms with his emotions. Thanks readers, for hanging in there. There's still lots to come. I can never thank Steppenwolf enough for her fabulous editing and succinct advice.  


* * *

8\. Guarded Questions 

 

Severus picked up of the cup of Ceylon tea he’d just brewed and walked over to sit at the small wooden table in his kitchen. 

He’d had every intention of drinking the hot liquid, but instead he sat and stared as the memories of the previous day and night filled his mind. 

Severus was upset over the fact that the person who’d attacked Harry turned out to be the father of a fourth year Slytherin. Since his daughter held one of the reserve Chaser positions on the team, her father had been allowed to attend the Quidditch final. Unfortunately, he was operating under the Imperious Curse, and his real intent had been to carry out his orders by kidnapping Harry. 

This marked the second time during this school term that the house of Slytherin had been tarnished. 

Added to that, Severus had endured another nightmare that night. Or at least it started out as a nightmare. But this time when he heard the scream, someone pulled him out of the mist and when he turned to see who it was… his rescuer had turned out to be Harry. 

Severus ground his teeth in frustration. He prided himself in his ability to disengage from his emotions and from those around him and it was an essential aspect to his success in fulfilling his duties to the Order. 

These continual nightmares of when he was a child, now coupled with his lingering thoughts of Harry, had Severus at a loss. 

_What in Merlin’s name is happening to me?_

"Severus? Are you up? Hello? Oh Sever…” 

“Of course I’m up!” Severus snapped back. “I’m teaching class soon, you old fool.” 

Albus Dumbledore stepped gracefully from Severus’s Floo. “Is something wrong?” 

All Albus got for his concern was a snarl, so he left Severus to his foul mood, walked straight toward the kitchen and poured himself a cup tea. “Might you have any vanilla?” 

“Merlin’s sake Albus, how can you do that to a perfectly good cup of tea?” 

“Have you ever tried it?” 

Giving up, Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. “Spice rack, top shelf.” 

After he’d doctored his tea, Dumbledore joined Severus at the tiny wooden table and looked expectantly at his favorite protégé. 

“What?” snapped Severus. 

“Why don’t you save the dramatics for someone who doesn’t know you,” returned Dumbledore. 

With Voldemort, with the students and with the Death Eaters, Severus always had to be on his guard. But not with Albus. He was the one person who truly knew Severus. 

Severus steepled his fingers and rested his head upon them. “I slept poorly. That’s all.” 

Albus knew it was best not to press the matter. He took a sip of his tea then got to business. “Severus, I need your help. _We_ need your help.” 

“And who might _we_ be?” 

“Humanity,” Dumbledore said simply. 

Severus looked over at Albus and silently considered the implications conveyed by that one word. “You’re talking about Harry.” 

“Yes I am.” Dumbledore waited and watched as Severus took a sip of his tea then leaned back upon his chair and folded his arms. 

“He’s old enough now to look at his situation objectively,” Severus said thoughtfully. 

“My thoughts exactly.” Dumbledore leaned forward. “There is only so much that I…that we can do to protect him, and it's obviously not enough.” 

Severus knew the old man was right. But this would mean more private time spent with Harry. 

“You are just as knowledgeable in Security Intelligence as I am, Albus.” 

“But Severus, you are far more skilled in its practical application. 

“Unfortunately, you are correct.” 

“Why do you say that? I thought you and Harry were getting along well these days.” 

The incident with the Hex Deflecting Hex was just the tip of the iceberg. “We are, it’s just that…” 

He paused midsentence then changed tact. “It’s personal.” 

Severus looked into the tired blue eyes, “I too want Harry to survive, and not just for him to save mankind.” He took a small sigh. “I’ll work with him.” 

“Thank you, Severus.” 

~~~~~ 

Bellatrix apparated to the entryway of Malfoy manor and then marched determinedly to the front door. It was locked. 

“Sod all,” she huffed then pulled out her wand. “Alohamora.” 

The door opened and she slipped into the foyer. 

“Cissy?” the dark haired witch called out as she walked toward the living room. 

“Bella,” Narcissa stood at the top of the stairs, “What are you doing here?” 

“Why did you lock your Floo? I had to apparate and walk through the front door like a commoner.” 

“Whether or not our front door is locked,” said Lucius Malfoy in his silky voice as he walked out of the master bedroom, “and whether or not we lock our Floo is none of your concern—Bella.” 

“Well hello—Lucius,” the pitch of her voice sailed up and down across her greeting. “You look pale,” she teased as she sauntered over to the base of the staircase. “Was it terrible in Azkaban?” 

“You of all people would know.” 

“Touché, brother-in-law.” 

“Will you two stop it,” scolded Narcissa. “The others will be here shortly.” 

“Is there any coffee made? It’s far too early in the morning. I’ll need some coffee if we’re to be planning mass escapes,” Bella rambled as she headed down the hallway toward the kitchen. 

“Oh Lucius,” Narcissa sighed as she leaned against his chest. “Why does this have to take place today? You need to rest and regain your strength.” 

“I’ll be fine Cissy,” he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “Now that I’m home and out of that hellhole…” 

“Don’t think of that place.” She reached up and kissed him. “You're home now and that’s all that matters.” 

~~~~~ 

Everyone at the Gryffindor table erupted in cheers and applause when Ron and the other members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team entered for breakfast the next morning. They stood in the doorway for a few moments, drinking in the adoration before taking their places at the table. 

“Where the hell is Harry?” asked Dean, when the team had taken their seats. “I thought you guys went to go and get him so you could all walk in together.” 

“We did,” replied Ron, “but Pomfrey says he has to stay in the infirmary today.” 

“She let Ron and me in to go and see him,” added Hermione, “but he was still asleep.” 

She poured herself a cup of coffee then continued, “Madame Pomfrey said that everything was just catching up with him; the long game, getting Stupefied and then the concussion.” 

“That sucks,” added Seamus. “He missed out on a great party.” 

“Couldn’t we have another one when Harry’s feeling better?” asked Neville. 

“Yeah, why not?” added Ginny. “We could have one this weekend.” 

“Yeah, let’s do it,” Ron seconded enthusiastically. “I’ll see if the twins can come and bring some of their stuff. We’ll make it a real bash.” 

They continued planning the party and started in on their breakfasts—everyone except for Hermione. She’d received her copy of the Daily Prophet and was staring dumbfounded at the front page. 

“How come you’re not eating, Mione?” asked Ron, his mouth now full of food. 

“I don’t believe it.” She handed him the paper and then snuck a peek over at the Slytherin table to chance a glance of Draco. 

He was sitting there smirking as always while all his friends around him spoke in hushed whispers. 

“For the love of…!” exclaimed Ron. He choked down his food before continuing. “How did he pull that off?” 

“What are you on about Ron?” asked Ginny. 

“Lucius Malfoy was released from Azkaban, apparently over some technicality,” replied Hermione as Ron continued to read the article, the color of his face growing redder with each word. 

“Technicality my foot,” said Ginny. “He got out because he paid somebody off.” 

“Or perhaps it was because of something else,” Hermione said softly, thinking about what the two recent cases of Imperius Curse just here at Hogwarts. 

“The tosser!” continued Ron. 

“Mr.—Weasley.” Professor McGonagall isolated each word and spoke Ron’s name in a flat, stern voice. 

“Oh, oh,” whispered Ron and he stared at his eggs with sudden trepidation. 

“What did I tell you about using vulgar language in public places?” 

“Sorry professor.” 

Hermione glared at Ron as she mouthed the words: _Turn around and look at her._

Ron’s red eyebrows shot up and he did a one eighty on the bench. 

“Professor, I’m really, really sorry I said that word. It’s just that…” 

“I am not interested in your excuse.” She stared down and pursed her lips. “One more time and you’ll find yourself in detention. Do I make myself clear?” 

Ron sort of sagged in place as he looked down at the stone floor. “Yes Ma’am.” 

McGonagall gave a sharp sigh then straightened her hat. “Miss Granger, may I speak with you for a moment?” 

Hermione started momentarily. “Of course Professor.” She hopped quickly up from the bench. 

“What do you think she wants?” asked Ginny. 

“Damned if I know,” replied Ron. He and everyone sitting near him leaned out over the bench, trying to keep McGonagall and Hermione in their sights. 

After a few moments, their attention was diverted when their DA coins grew warm and they began to pull them out the pockets of their robes. 

“Hermione,” Ron called out when she sat down next to him, “what’s going on?” 

“Listen,” Hermione spoke with a hushed voice and they all huddled close to hear her. “There’s going to be a meeting at noon today for select members of the DA in the antechamber.” 

“How can we have a DA meeting if Harry is in the infirmary?” asked Neville. 

“Remember Neville, DA stands for _Dumbledore’s Army_.” She smiled like the Cheshire cat, “Dumbledore himself has called for this meeting.” 

~~~~~ 

_A light mist hung suspended in the warm morning air. At the far end of the Lake, Harry stood next to the water’s edge as he worked methodically through his Qi Gong movements._

_He took a deep breath, circled his arms overhead and brought his fingertips to face each other. Then he slowly pushed his hands in a downward motion, effectively pushing the bad Qi from his system and finishing his morning’s practice._

_Harry opened his eyes and relished in the peacefulness that filled and surrounded him._

_Then he heard the sound of splashing water. He turned to face the lake and saw Snape standing in the water._

_Snape ran a hand through his long, wet black hair, brushing it away from his face as droplets of water ran lazily down his ivory skin. Then he walked toward the shore. Harry watched as every inch of Snape slowly emerged from the water and came into view._

_Intrigued, Harry walked toward the water’s edge and waited as Snape came closer._

_They finally stood face to face and Harry raised his hand to place it lightly upon the pale chest. Snape remained silent, but watched Harry’s every movement with his smoky gaze._

_Harry slowly lowered his hand down the length of Snape’s long torso. And just when he reached the soft black hair…_

Harry gasped as he woke suddenly from his dream. 

“Ah Mr. Potter, you’re finally awake. How are you feeling?” 

He looked up at the smiling face of Madame Pomfrey and immediately felt disorientated and—embarrassed. 

“I…uh…” 

“A bit foggy I see,” she resumed waving her wand, “could have been much worse considering the location of your injury.” 

She stopped waving her wand then tapped the amulet lying upon Harry’s chest. “It was a good thing you were wearing that amulet.” 

“I don’t know about that,” he rubbed his sore head. “I still got hurt.” 

“But not as badly as I would have suspected.” 

She put her wand away and sat down next to him. “Harry, you have a mild concussion, even though the injury is located right here.” She touched his left temple. "The bone is very thin there, so the injury to your brain should have been far worse. That amulet definitely saved you.” 

“Oh.” He picked the amulet up and rubbed his finger over the intricate carvings. 

“Drink this; it will help with your headache.” 

Harry swallowed the potion. 

“I have a nice warm cup of tea right here for you.” 

“But I need to get to my potions class.” 

“Harry, your potions class has finished. It’s almost noon.” 

He didn’t know if it was the concussion or the dream, but he felt totally dazed. 

“You just lie there quietly and drink your tea. That potion should start to work shortly.” 

“Yes Ma’am.” 

She got him propped up and placed numerous pillows behind him for him to lean against. When she walked off, Harry pulled his legs up close and he thought about the amulet and Snape, then he remembered his dream. 

_God, how could I have dreamt that?_ Harry stared at the opposite wall and held onto his mug of tea as if it were a life-preserver. 

~~~~~ 

The small group of DA members fell silent when Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall walked into the Antechamber off the Great Hall. 

Dumbledore had never addressed the DA directly, and the fact that he himself had called this meeting indicated the seriousness of its intent. 

“I wish to thank you all for coming on such short notice.” 

The students remained silent and waited expectantly. 

“Since our time is limited, I will get right to the point.” 

He scanned the faces, looking directly at each student before continuing. 

“As you are well aware, there have been three separate incidences of attacks upon Harry Potter this term.” 

Everyone nodded their heads. 

“We are taking steps to try and ensure his safety, but we have obviously come up short.” 

“Please Sir, what can we do to help?” asked Hermione. 

“There are three weeks remaining until the summer break. What I wish to ask of you, the DA, is to be Harry’s collective body guard until the end of term.” 

They all started chatting amongst themselves. 

“We really appreciate this opportunity to help Sir,” offered Hermione. 

“I know that I…” Ron looked around, “I’m sure all of us are sick and tired of seeing Harry get hurt.” 

“As am I, Mr. Weasley,” responded Dumbledore. 

“And I,” added McGonagall. 

“So, how do we go about doing this Sir?” asked Neville. 

The Headmaster looked over to McGonagall, “Minerva?” 

Professor McGonagall started passing out parchments to the members in attendance. 

“Most of you share classes with Harry,” she spoke in her Scottish brogue. “I have taken the liberty of devising a schedule which would provide a minimum of two guards to be by his side throughout the day. Of course you are at liberty to modify this, but the goal is to have a minimum of two guards at all times.” 

“What about this summer, Sir?” asked Hermione. 

“Along with Harry, there will be only a handful of professors here this summer. Furthermore, he will be learning new skills over the summer that should help him to better protect himself next term.” 

The noise level in the room dropped as each student studied their individual parchment. 

Dumbledore stood up from his chair. “So, may I depend upon you to carry out this task?” 

They all stood in unison and answered in a jumble of like responses, “Of course Sir.” “Anything we can do to help Harry.” “We’ll do it.” 

“I have one more request.” He waited until they were paying attention. “As you all know, Harry dislikes being the center of attention. So if you will, please try to carry out your duties with…” Dumbledore paused, trying to think of a good way to put it, “without fanfare.” 

“You can count on us, Sir,” assured Ron. 

~~~~~ 

The DA kept close tabs on Harry that week, escorting him to and from classes, down to meals then back up to the tower—in essence making sure that he was never alone. 

They’d all noticed that Harry wasn’t quite himself. He seemed continually preoccupied and slightly dazed. Chalking up his odd behavior to the bump on his head, no one thought anything of it. 

Harry may have felt dazed, but it wasn’t because of any bump on the head. 

On Friday afternoon, Harry, Ron and Hermione hiked up to the seventh floor after their charms class finished and had just reached the door past the Gargoyle when Harry turned to face them. 

“Listen, you two don’t have to wait out here for an hour. I’ll be fine.” 

“Harry Potter, we’re staying right here, so save your breath.” 

Harry shook his head and sighed as his two friends moved over to the door. 

“Are you coming?” asked Ron. 

“After you.” 

Ron knocked on the door. 

“Come in Harry.” 

Ron shrugged uncomfortably but Hermione gave him a little shove. 

“Go on.” 

He opened the door and poked his head in. 

“Why, if it isn’t Ron Weasley.” Helena stood and walked over to greet him. “I haven’t seen you since last summer.” 

“Hi, Healer Swanson.” 

“Please call me Helena. But where is Harry? Is he all right?” 

“I’m right here,” Harry answered and started to walk into the room, but Hermione stopped him. 

“Helena,” continued Ron, “I need to make certain that you’re the only person in this room.” 

“Oh,” she said with surprise. “Be my guest.” She stood back and allowed Ron to check out the room. 

Harry whispered in Hermione’s ear while Ron checked out the room, “I think you guys are taking this too far.” 

“We are not!” she hissed back at him. 

“Everything looks fine, you can come in Harry.” 

Harry walked in and glared at Ron as he walked out. 

After the door closed, Harry leaned back against it, dropped his bag on the floor and closed his eyes. 

“I don’t know how much more of this I can take.” 

“Harry, come over here and sit down.” 

He pushed off from the door and plopped himself down in the chair. 

“Quite a bit has happened to you since we met last Friday,” she commented. 

“Helena…you have no idea.” 

“Are you talking about the attack?” 

“No, I’m not.” Harry stood up and started pacing around the room. “And it’s not all about this stupid guarding me business either!” 

The china tea service sitting on the sideboard shattered suddenly. 

“Harry—you need to calm down, and do it right now,” commanded Helena. 

Harry cringed and he turned to look at her. “You’re okay, right? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” 

“I’m fine.” 

“Sorry about that.” He turned back to the tea service and waved his hand. “Reparo,” then he walked back to the chair, sat down and took a few steady breaths, trying to calm himself. 

“All right Harry, pick one word to describe what’s going on with you.” 

He hated it when she made him do this, but truth be told it did help him make sense of what he was feeling. “I guess it would be…betrayal.” 

“Who betrayed you?” 

“No, it’s me. I’m the one betraying….” 

“Anthony?” 

Harry sagged and nodded his head. “I keep thinking about…well, there’s this person” his voice sounded frail. “I think about him,” he paused and squirmed a bit, “in that way.” 

“And tell me why that makes you feel betrayal.” 

Harry stared at her in disbelief. “Because Anthony has no life! He’s laying there like a vegetable and I should… I shouldn’t…” 

“You shouldn’t what? Ever have feelings for someone else?” 

Harry silently nodded his head. 

“You shouldn’t ever fall in love again or be intimate with someone?” 

Tears started welling in his eyes. “I feel like I’m betraying him.” 

Helena stood up and moved to sit right next to Harry. 

“You have been informed as to his clinical condition.” 

“Yes,” his acknowledgement was barely audible. 

“So you know that he will never wake up, and there is a strong possibility that he will succumb to secondary complications.” 

“I know all of that.” Harry lowered his head. “But still— how can I love someone else when Anthony is going through all of that? It’s not right.” 

Helena sat quietly for a moment, deciding how best to proceed. 

“Harry, what if the roles were reversed? What if it were you lying in that coma? How would you want Anthony to live the remainder of his life?” 

“His mom said the same kind of thing to me last year.” 

“So? What would you want?” 

“I’d want Anthony to be happy,” tears rolled down his cheeks as he stared at the carpet. “I’d want him to love again.” 

“This will take time Harry,” Helena consoled him, “and we’ll continue to talk about it as you work through all of this.” 

“Okay,” he sighed. 

“So, is there someone…?” 

“No, not really. I just keep thinking about this certain person.” 

“Believe it or not, that is a healthy sign.” 

He started to contradict her statement, but Helena raised her hand. 

“Let me finish.” 

“Sorry.” 

“I know that part of you is feeling guilty, but your subconscious and your physical self are healing and moving on.” 

“It just doesn’t seem right,” he repeated softly. 

“My best advice for you is to try and take this one day at a time. Don’t try to analyze your feelings. Just let them happen.” 

“I’ll try.” He looked out the window and softly repeated her words, “One day at a time.” 

 

~~~~~


	19. Summer Suprises

  
Author's notes: Summer brings some welcome surprises.Thanks to Steppenwolf for her marvelous editing.  
All rights belong to JKR.  


* * *

19\. Summer Surprises 

 

“So when’s the wedding?” Harry asked as he levitated another load of books to Channon. 

“Next month.” 

Channon stopped his packing for a moment to look at Harry. 

“I wish you could come. If things were different…” 

“I understand Channon. It’s too risky.” Harry looked around the nearly empty office. “Just send me a postcard from your honeymoon, will you?” 

“You can count on it.” 

“Wow, Jamaica,” Harry resumed levitating the last few books from off the top shelf. “I can’t even imagine going somewhere like Jamaica.” 

“Me too, I can hardly wait.” 

“That’s the last of them.” Harry hopped off the table where he’d been sitting. “What’s next?” 

“How about you start packing the Dark Detectors.” 

“Sure.” 

He walked over and began wrapping up the collection of delicate instruments in the special padded cloth bags. 

“Defense won’t be the same without you, Channon.” 

“I wish I could stay and teach next year, but…” 

“You have your job,” Harry finished the sentence as he fiddled with one of the detectors. “I don’t know what Unmentionables do, but it must be important.” 

Channon just nodded. They both knew he wasn’t allowed to discuss the details of his work. 

“Do you know who’ll be teaching Defense next year?” asked Harry. 

“I believe Dumbledore is still trying to find a replacement.” 

Harry finished wrapping the last of the detectors and placed it in the box along with the other, then stood up and looked around. 

“I guess that’s it.” 

“Looks like.” 

Harry stood there, not knowing what to do. Channon was leaving first thing in the morning and they both knew that this was ‘Good bye’. 

Channon walked over and stood in front of Harry. 

“It was an honor to teach you this year, Harry. You are so gifted with magic and you learn so quickly.” 

“That’s just because you’re a good teacher.” 

“Thank you,” Channon gave a little bow of his head. 

“I can’t believe how much I learned this year,” Harry continued. He was looking anywhere but at Channon, trying to not let his emotions get the best of him. 

Then Channon placed a hand on each one of Harry’s shoulders. “Listen to me; I want you to know that I admire you, Harry. And it’s not because you’re The Chosen One or The Boy Who Lived, it’s because of the kind of person you are and how you deal with others.” 

Harry looked down, embarrassed. 

“I think of you not as a student…but as a friend.” 

“Now that you’re not my teacher, could we be that?” 

“What…be friends?” 

“Yeah, you know… write to each other and keep in touch.” 

“Harry, we already _are_ friends, and you damn well better write to me, I’m counting on it.” 

They heard someone clear their voice and both men turned to see Hermione standing in the doorway. 

“Harry, it’s ten o’clock,” she said softly. 

“Okay.” He turned back and looked at Channon. 

“Come here you.” Channon wrapped Harry in a big hug. 

“Take care of yourself,” Channon whispered in Harry’s ear. 

“I’ll try,” said Harry as he struggled to hold his emotions in check. “Good bye Channon.” 

The two broke apart and Harry walked quickly out of the office. Hermione gave Channon a little wave then turned and ran down the stairs after Harry. 

~~~~~ 

The next morning, carriages lined up in front of Hogwarts and began shuttling the students down to Hogsmeade Station. The air was filled with noise and raucous as all the suitcases and belongings were sorted and loaded. 

“Bye Harry,” called Dean and Seamus. 

“Bye you guys,” Harry called back. “Have a great summer.” 

“Bye Harry!” 

Harry turned to see Ginny, Luna and Neville waving from a nearby carriage. “Bye you guys, have a great summer!” 

Neville whispered something in Luna’s ear and then ran over to Harry. 

“Listen Harry, I just wanted to say…” he looked around awkwardly, “well, I know you have to stay here and all, but I hope it won’t be too boring.” 

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll find something to do.” 

“I’ll send you some postcards,” offered Neville. 

“From where? Where are you going?” 

“Gran wants to travel this summer. I’m not sure where, she’s doing all the planning and…” 

“Neville!” called Luna, "hurry up, the carriage is leaving!” 

“Guess I better go Harry, bye!” he called as he ran and jumped into the carriage. 

“Well mate, I guess this is it,” said Ron as he and Hermione walked over to join their friend. 

“Only for one month. You’re all coming for my birthday, remember?” returned Harry. 

“I know, but…it just seems like such a long time from now.” 

“Ron, it will be here before you know it,” interjected Hermione. 

She looked up at Harry. “Give me a hug.” 

He stepped toward Hermione and wrapped his arms around her. They hugged for a long while, then she kissed Harry on the cheek and whispered in his ear, “If you ever need anything, just owl me and I’ll come.” 

“Thanks Mione. I think I’ll be okay.” He squeezed her then stepped away. “It sounds like Dumbledore and Snape have a lot planned for me this summer.” 

“Don’t let them work you too hard, mate.” 

“All right now,” Hagrid’s voice boomed over the surrounding noise. “Time ter git a goin.” 

“Bye Ron, bye Mione.” 

“Bye Harry, take care of yourself,” Hermione called back as they got into the last carriage. 

“Here comes th’ Headmast’r Harry, he’ll be a takin yer back inter da castle.” 

“Right, Hagrid. Thanks for staying with me.” 

Dumbledore joined Harry and the two of them watched as Hagrid followed the last carriage down the road. A wave of sadness washed over Harry as the carriage turned the corner and disappeared out of view. 

“I guess that’s it,” he said forlornly. 

Dumbledore looked about and smiled broadly. “Well my boy, are you ready for your summer to begin?” 

“I suppose so,” Harry sighed. 

“Splendid. Then follow me; I have a surprise for you.” 

The Headmaster started walking briskly back to the castle. 

“A surprise? For me?” 

“Yes Harry. I thought it might be nice,” he turned to make sure that Harry had caught up with him, “for you to have a change of scenery this summer.” 

“But I thought I was staying here?” 

“You are indeed.” 

They entered the castle and crossed the entry hall. 

“That is why I have arranged a suite of rooms for you to occupy over the next two months.” 

“A suite of rooms?”Harry asked incredulously. 

“Yes,” Dumbledore confirmed as they started up the flight of stairs. “They’re located here on the second floor and are used primarily for visiting dignitaries. I’ve had the elves bring your belongings down already.” 

They walked to the end of a short hallway. “Here we are.” 

Dumbledore stopped to next to the full length portrait of a formidable looking witch standing in a woodland setting. She turned to face the stunned young man. 

“Harry, I would like to introduce you to Galatea Merrythought, Galatea…this is Harry Potter.” 

“Hallo ma’am.” 

“Well, hello Harry. It’s nice to finally meet you.” 

“Galatea taught here at Hogwarts the same time as I, only she taught Defense.” 

“She did?” Harry turned back, surprised. 

“I did indeed young man,” commented the woman in the portrait. 

“I asked Gala if she would guard your suite of rooms, and she agreed.” 

“Thank you, sir” Harry said in earnest. 

”Now,” Dumbledore continued, “you must pick out a password.” 

“Oh.” Harry looked around and bit his lip. “Um, how about…Skiving Snackboxes.” 

“Splendid choice. And you must remember to change your password daily.” 

“All right.” 

“I’ll give you the honors,” Dumbledore held out his hand and stepped back allowing Harry to move in closer to the portrait of Diana and offer the password. 

“Skiving Snackboxes.” 

The portrait swung open and Harry stepped into the room but he stopped immediately, shocked at what greeted him. 

The modest sized centrally located sitting room was painted in a light cream color with a fireplace on the far wall, banked by French doors which led out to a balcony. 

“Your bedroom is here to the right Harry.” 

Dumbledore had to squeeze in behind Harry who was still staring aghast at the beautiful sitting room. 

“Harry?” Dumbledore called from the bedroom doorway. 

“Sir?” 

“The bedroom…would you like to see it?” 

“Oh, yes sir.” Harry hurried over and a repeat performance of what had just happened in the sitting room played out. 

“This is beautiful sir.” 

“I thought you might like it.” 

Harry walked in and ran his hand along the burgundy silk bedspread covering a spacious four-poster bed. 

“Your washroom is here off the bedroom. Now, let me show you the kitchen.” 

“There’s a kitchen?” Harry asked as he followed the Headmaster across to the opposite side of the sitting room. 

“Just a small one Harry, in case you want to prepare a little something.” 

Harry looked around the small but well appointed kitchen. 

“We will be having meals in the Great Hall, but you are free to eat here or there. This is your vacation.” 

“Thanks sir. But, who’s we?” 

“Myself, Professor Flitwick and Professor Sprout.” 

“Oh,” Harry said a little disappointed. “I thought Professor Snape was going to train me this summer.” 

“He will my boy, he will. He is taking his vacation and will be gone for three weeks. 

Harry nodded. 

“Now Harry, there is much we need to discuss. I believe the elves left us refreshments on the balcony.” 

Once again, Harry had to keep up with the Headmaster as he strode out of the kitchen, across the sitting room, and out the French doors. 

Harry couldn’t believe his eyes when he stepped out onto the balcony and walked to the railing. They were situated on the east side of the castle, giving Harry a completely different view from what he usually saw from Gryffindor Tower. 

There was a small table and two chairs on the balcony, and the Headmaster had already taken a seat and was happily sipping from a tall glass of lemonade. 

“Sir, thank you. This is all so beautiful.” 

“You are welcome my boy.” Dumbledore set down his glass. “You had quite a difficult time of it this year. And even though you must stay here within the wards, I very much want for you to have a relaxing and enjoyable vacation. 

“I really appreciate that Sir. Thank you.” 

“Now Harry, a few matters. First, we still need to keep an eye on you, just to be on the safe side.” 

Harry sagged. “I understand.” 

“It will be different however, in that the house elves will be your guards.” 

“The house elves?” 

“Yes. With the students gone, the elves will have quite a bit of time on their hands.” 

“So I have to wait and make sure one of them…” 

“No, no my boy. You can come and go as you like. You won’t even know they are watching you.” 

“Oh. Okay.” 

“Secondly, your training.” Dumbledore pulled a thin book out from his pocket and handed it to Harry. 

He looked at the title and read it out loud, “Intelligences and Their Applications.” Harry got an expression on his face as though he’d just eaten a vomit flavored Bertie Botts Bean. 

“Now, now Harry, do not distress. I agree the text is rather dry, but thankfully you only need familiarize yourself with one specific area.” He tapped the book. “I have marked the specific chapter on which we will be concentrating.” 

Harry noted the glowing blue page and turned to it. “Security Intelligence,” he read then looked at Dumbledore. “Security Intelligence? What’s that?” 

" _That_ is what you will be learning this summer. Now, you only need to familiarize yourself with the terms involved. We will discuss how they apply to your situation. Then, when Severus returns, he will work with you in their practical application." 

Harry turned to the table of contents and silently read all the chapter titles: Tactical Intelligence, Strategic Intelligence, Military Intelligence, Security Intelligence. 

“Professor Snape knows all of this stuff?” he asked as he flipped through the many pages. 

“He not only knows this _stuff,_ as you call it, he uses this knowledge to survive.” 

“You mean his pretending to be a Death Eater?” 

“Severus is a spy, Harry. What he does is very dangerous and there are few individuals who could successfully pull it off.” 

“Wow.” Harry looked out toward the Forbidden Forest. “I guess I never thought about everything that went into being a spy.” 

They were silent for a moment. 

“Sir, can I tell you something?” 

“Of course Harry.” 

Harry set the book on the table and looked at the old wizard. “Up until this year, I always thought Professor Snape was just a git.” He cringed and looked over to the Headmaster. “Sorry Sir.” 

“That’s all right Harry, please continue.” 

“But now I realize he has to do that as part of his…” Harry searched for the word. 

“Façade, I believe is the word for which you are searching.” 

Harry silently nodded his head. 

“Severus is a unique and complicated individual,” Dumbledore continued, “There is much more to him than that façade.” 

Harry smiled curiously and gave Dumbledore a sideways glance. “He has a funny side.” 

“Most people miss it.” 

“Yeah, at first I thought he was being mean but really it’s just…what do you call it?” 

“A dry sense of humor,” Dumbledore filled in. 

“Yeah, that’s it.” Harry gave a tiny chuckle. 

“I am pleased that you and Severus have been able to put your differences behind you.” Dumbledore took a deep breath. “And now, back to your lessons. I thought we might hold our training sessions in the evening, just after supper. That way you’ll have your days free to do with as you chose.” 

“Okay Sir. That sounds good.” 

“We’ll start tomorrow evening. Do you have any questions?” 

“Is it all right if I go down to the pitch?” 

“Harry, you can go wherever you want, whenever you want. Provided you stay within the wards. And stay away from the Forbidden Forest.” 

“Of course Sir.” 

“I am certain that with over one hundred elves keeping an eye on you, you will be quite safe.” 

“Is Dobby here this summer?” 

Harry jumped as the little elf immediately appeared. “Harry Potter, Dobby is here!” 

“See what I mean?” chuckled Dumbledore. “That will be all Dobby.” 

Dobby’s ears sagged disappointedly as he Disapparated. 

The Headmaster stood to leave. “I will let you get settled in.” 

“Thanks again for everything Sir.” 

Dumbledore paused and placed his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Harry, you are welcome. Now, relax and enjoy the summer. 

“Okay sir.” 

~~~~~ 

Harry spent the remainder of the morning getting to know his new lodgings. The couch was roomy and comfortable, the bed felt like a cloud, his bathroom had a large tub and shower and a window which looked out into the tops of some trees and the elves had filled the icebox with all kinds of yummy foods. 

He fixed himself a light lunch and ate it out on his balcony as he started reading the chapter on Security Intelligence. Dumbledore was right—it was dry reading. 

After lunch, Harry grabbed his broom, walked back out to the balcony and flew off down to the pitch. He hadn’t been there since the Quidditch final and it felt great being able to fly around and not have to worry about two guards always having to be by his side. 

The afternoon grew quite warm, so Harry took off his shirt and tucked it into his back pocket. He decided to fly over to the lake. When he got to its edge, he hovered in place for a minute as he kicked off his sneakers, then he flew out over the lake, dragging his feet along the surface of the water. 

“Woo hoo!” he called out. He felt so free. No worries, no guards, no homework— he was just having fun. 

His escapades escalated to attempting entire loops over the water, and by the time he'd needed to return, he was drenched from head to toe and thoroughly happy. 

As he headed back to the castle, he took his time flying lazily all around the turrets and towers, stopping momentarily outside the Headmaster’s tower to tap on the window and wave 'Hello' to Dumbledore. 

Then Harry flew down to Hagrid’s hut, but Hagrid wasn’t there, so he returned to his suite to clean up for dinner. 

He took a long hot bath, and then crawled into bed, naked. 

He could never do that in the dorm with all his dorm-mates present. The silk sheets felt cool and slippery. 

“Dobby.” 

Of course Dobby instantly appeared. “Yes, Harry Potter?” 

“I have a rule I want to make.” 

Dobby’s ears perked upward. 

“I don’t want you guys standing here in my bedroom. You can stand outside the door and make sure no one comes in, but when I’m in here I want some privacy. Okay?” 

“Yes Harry Potter, Dobby will tell the others.” He smiled then Disapparated. 

Harry slid back down onto the sheets and smiled as he started to stroke himself. 

He thought about how wonderful it felt to drag his feet through the water. Then he closed his eyes and remembered how it felt when he’d fallen on top of Snape and felt that large cock. And then Harry recalled every luscious detail of that first dream he’d had of Snape walking out of the lake, naked. 

It didn’t take long for Harry to come. This was the first time since term started that he’d been able to wank off lying down. He usually had to do it in the shower and try not to make any noises. 

He lay there, totally spent and blissfully happy. “I think this is going to be a great summer.” 

~~~~~ 

Harry slept soundly that night and had a nice lie in the next morning. He again spent the day flying but this time he brought his book along with him to read down at the far end of the lake.

When he finished the chapter, he set the book aside and stared out across the water as words and phrases from the text swam in his thoughts. _Threat Environment, vulnerability can be reduced but never eliminated, opportunity based on timing and knowledge of the target…_

Dumbledore had explained the text as ‘dry reading’, but Harry could identify every word he’d read with almost every aspect of his life. And the more he thought about the text’s message, the more it seemed to him that it had been written _about_ him.

He had to get away, from these words and from the stifling feeling growing inside him. 

Harry quickly peeled off his clothes, ran naked into the water and started to swim. He swam and he swam, leaving that book and all its unsettling words far behind him. 

He swam out to the middle of the lake and climbed up onto a boulder to rest. And as he sat on that rock to catch his breath, he stared down into the water and recalled a conversation he hadn’t even realized he’d heard.

It had taken place the night of his attempted kidnapping. He’d fallen asleep but awoke at the sound of familiar voices.

_Harry needs to take on more responsibility in his own protection,_ had said Channon.

_But he hasn’t reached majority yet,_ returned Albus.

_He’s old enough to understand and he’s more than capable. Look what happened this afternoon. You can’t follow his every move Albus. He has to learn how to watch out for himself,_ continued Channon.

Harry kicked at the water. _Channon is right,_ he thought to himself. _I’m not a kid anymore and Dumbledore won’t always be there to protect me. I have to learn this stuff and I’m not going to let it freak me out_.

~~~~~ 

Dumbledore looked over at Harry’s empty plate. “Are you finished Harry?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Then let us adjourn for your first lesson.” 

“Good night Professors,” Harry said as he and Dumbledore stood up to exit the Great Hall. 

“Good night, Harry,” returned both Professors Sprout and Flitwick. 

Just outside the doors, Harry turned to head toward the staircase but Dumbledore gently took hold of Harry’s arm. 

“It’s such a pleasant evening; I thought we might conduct your lesson outside.” 

“Oh, that sounds great Sir.” 

They walked across the entry hall and out the front doors. 

“Why don’t we head towards our…” Dumbledore looked left and right, “oh, let’s go to the right.” 

Harry chuckled at the Headmaster’s quirkiness. 

“Were you able to fit any reading into your day?” 

“I finished the chapter, Sir.” 

“You did?” Dumbledore asked with surprise. “Splendid Harry, and what did you learn?” 

“Well, I learned that when a risk exists…,” he turned to look at the Headmaster, “and I’m the risk… right?” 

“That you are, my boy.” 

“Anyway, when a risk exists, that’s when you need to use Security Intelligence.” 

“Correct. Please continue.” 

“And to have risk, you need…” Harry looked up at the peachy sky as he tried to remember the components, “vulnerability, impact and threat.” 

“And what are the influencing factors for threat?” 

“Intent, opportunity and capability.” 

“I’m impressed, Harry. I hope you didn’t spend _all_ day studying.” 

“No Sir, not all day. I flew around some.” 

“Well good, remember— this is your vacation.” 

“Yes Sir.” 

“Let’s see if we can apply these theories to your own situation.” Dumbledore paused to smell a wisteria flower as they passed under a massive arbor which was completely engulfed by the vigorous vine. 

“Now, if you will, think about the three attacks upon you this past year.” Dumbledore gently placed his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Or would that be too distressing?” 

“Oh no, Sir, I’m okay. But thanks for asking.” Harry considered the attack on the train, the incident with the chocolate eggs, and the attack in the locker room. 

“Very well. Then, with regards to threat—would you say the intent was the same in all three instances?” 

Harry walked in silence as he compared the three attacks. “I don’t think it was.” He brushed the leaves of a large English Laurel hedge as they walked past it, “Goyle was mad about his father and just wanted to get back at me, but the other two…well, they were trying to kidnap me to take me to Voldemort.” 

"And what about opportunity?" 

"That's just it sir,” Harry stopped and looked down at the ground before him. “They always seem to know where to find me.” 

Dumbledore placed a supportive arm behind Harry. “I’m afraid you've hit the nail on the proverbial head so to speak." 

Harry didn’t respond. 

"You’re attackers all had opportunity, one of the components of threat. With the many people coming and going from the castle, this component is our ‘Achilles Heel’ so to speak in our efforts to protect you.” 

Harry took a deep breath and pursed his lips as if he were about to whistle, but instead he slowly released his breath. He’d felt fine at the beginning of the conversation, but talking about these attacks had left him feeling a bit anxious. 

Harry’s silent measures did not go unnoticed. 

“I think that’s enough for our first lesson and may I say how extremely pleased with all that you’ve accomplished. And if you are willing, I have a little surprise planned.” 

“Thank you Sir.” Harry was grateful for the respite, “Another surprise?” 

“Yes, it’s just over here.” They walked a little further and then ascended a short stone staircase that led to a small courtyard. 

Harry stopped in his tracks and stared at the beautifully set table. “But we just had dinner,” was all he could manage to say. 

“This isn’t dinner Harry, this is dessert!” Dumbledore steered Harry over to the small table set with creamy yellow linens and a crystal vase filled with apricot colored roses situated in the center. There was a decanter of port, a plate of aged Stilton cheese, freshly sliced Macintosh apples and two bowls of mixed berry cobbler. 

“Have a seat, my boy.” 

“Thank you, Sir.” 

Dumbledore filled the two petite glasses with the port and placed one in front of Harry, who in turn stared at the small object, not knowing quite what to do. 

“Are you sure this is okay, Sir?” 

“Is what okay? asked Dumbledore as he cut off a chunk of cheese and placed it on a slice of apple. 

“This is alcohol, right?” 

“Oh Harry, you’ll hurt its feelings if you call it simply 'alcohol'.” 

“Excuse me Sir; I don’t follow.” 

“This,” the Headmaster picked up the small crystal goblet and nodded for Harry to do the same, “is a very old Tawny Port.” He leaned over and clinked his glass against Harry’s. 

“To your good health, Harry.” 

~~~~~ 

A continent away, Severus Snape swam naked in his lap pool. He reached the far end, turned and headed back enjoying the coolness of the water as it licked against his skin. 

When he reached the other end, he stood up and looked slowly around the patio. He’d been doing this all day; looking around and wondering to himself what was out of place. Something was missing. 

He sighed then climbed out of the pool and ascended the stone steps which led to his private terrace. There, beside the sunken soaking pool was a bottle of Primotivo, and beside it stood a crystal goblet already filled. 

Severus was annoyed with Giano for assuming, but damn it if the house elf hadn’t been correct. 

He walked over, stepped down into the pool and sank languidly into the hot water. He reached for the goblet and sipped a mouthful of the rich red wine as he stared out across the valley below. 

Severus loved coming back the villa. This was the home of his childhood, his beloved roses, and his state of the art laboratory. This place was where he belonged and even though he rarely spent time here, when he did return to the villa it was a respite were he could relax. It had always fulfilled his every want—until now. 

Now, something was missing. 

He was experiencing an emptiness he hadn’t felt before and it seemed as though the dark shadows of the valley below echoed the dark chasm within him. That memory of love which he’d secretly guarded all these many months and which he’d hoped would be enough— was now somehow lacking. 

He looked around once again and finally surrendered to the fact that he did indeed know what was missing from his beautiful home…what was missing from his life. 

It was love, and damn it if this wasn’t all Harry’s fault. 

“Why did you have to do that to me?” he whispered in frustration. “Damn it Harry…why?” 

 

~~~~~


	20. Up For The Task

  
Author's notes: As the Death Eaters take steps to accomplish Voldemort's latest scheme, things start to heat up for Severus and Harry.  
Thanks to Steppenwolf for her fabulous editing and insightful comments. All rights belong to JKR and gang.   


* * *

12\. ‘Up to the Task’ 

 

Bellatrix stood looking out the window as she watched the continual dance of whitecaps whipping their way over the endless gray sea. 

Her corner room in the Stonesay Inn, indeed the entire small town of Stonesay, was constantly buffeted by the incessant wind. Her eye drifted to the distant line of the horizon and she wished she could be anywhere—but here. 

Stonesay, part of the Orkney Island chain, was the last place on earth she ever wanted to go. Not only because of the sheer boredom of the place, but it was too near _that_ place. Azkaban was a place she never _ever_ planned to visit again. 

But her lord had requested this of her and for him— she would do anything. Even haul her sweet ass up to this frigid part of the world for weeks on end to gather the information needed to achieve their goal. 

She turned away from the little window with its dreary vista and walked over to sit at the small vanity. 

Bella studied her reflection in the mirror, tilting her head this way and that trying to get the light from the low northern sun to reflect off of her blond hair. 

“I don’t know if I like this color on me,” she mumbled to herself. 

Giving up on her hair, she applied a tad bit more eye shadow and lipstick then went back to the small window to see if he might be coming. She was bored out of her mind and hated being in the middle of nowhere with nothing to do but fuck, sleep late and drink. The one windfall was that the guard she’d been seducing was well hung and he knew how to use his equipment. 

She heard a soft knock on the door. 

“Monique,” the man whispered, “it’s me. Can I come in?” 

She started getting wet just from the sound of his voice. “Mais oui.” 

The door opened slowly and in slipped the tall, rugged guard. His cheeks were flushed from the cold and his eyes glowed with anticipation. He walked straight to her and wrapped her up in his arms. 

“Oh Monique,” they started kissing,” I missed you so much.” 

“Ahhh, mi amore,” sighed Bella 

“Merlin Monique, say that again. I love it when you speak French.” 

Bellatrix happily obliged, knowing just what her verbal dance of words would inspire and by the time they’d finished fucking each other over and over, it was well past midnight. At this time of the year and at this latitude, the sun still lingered above the horizon and cast an annoying ray of light when all should be dark. 

She flicked her wand to lower the black shade then snuggled close to her lover, feeling every delicious inch of skin as it pressed up next to hers. 

“You look tired, Cherie.” She stroked his hair, “It is difficult at work?” 

“Oh baby, if you only knew.” 

“Ce qui est mal?” 

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand.” 

“What is…how you say...wrong?” 

“Oh, you know I’m not supposed to talk about my work.” 

She kissed his mouth, then his cheeks and then started playing with his ear using her tongue. “Poor baby,” she said. 

Bella’s assignment had been to befriend then Imperious as many guards as she could lay her hands, or other anatomy, on. But this had been such a dreary assignment, she’d decided to spice it up a bit and give herself a challenge. 

“I suppose I could tell you,” he wavered as she continued using her tongue to cloud his senses. 

“They’re going to replace an entire contingent of us guards next month. So it’s been hell trying to get everything ready for the switch.” 

“But why is that problem, mi amore?” She moved quickly down his body and started licking his balls. 

“Well, you see…there will only be a handful of guards there for one day,” he gasped as she scooped one of the globes into her mouth, “on the first of next month.” 

Her antics had his head spinning. “They wouldn’t leave you to be the only one, would they?” Now she started in on his cock. 

He growled and grabbed at the sheets. “No, don’t worry. There will be five of us. It’ll be okay.” 

She got him to come then gave a little chuckle, rolled over onto her back and spread her legs. 

~~~~~ 

Severus stood outside the doorway holding a special intercontinental Portkey. His travel bags sat next to him, he’d locked up his laboratory and said his goodbyes. All he needed to do was activate the Portkey and he’d be on his way to Hogwarts. 

But one thing was stopping him. 

He stared out across the grove of olive trees to the opposite end where the old pergola stood. This pergola, the entryway to Severus’s rose garden was the support structure for his favorite rose, the massive climber named Souvenir de Madame Leonet Vionet. 

It was mid July and Madame was in her glory. Her multitude of flowers completely engulfed the pergola, creating a floating sea of apricot and peach. 

Now would be the perfect time to collect a sample of the rose and bring it to Harry. After all, he had promised Harry he would do so that night after the overdose and attempted kidnapping. He could easily walk over, pick one of the flowers, shrink it and bring it back with him. 

But to do that would go against his new resolve. 

Severus had been going round and round his entire time at the villa, debating with his himself on the subject of love and relations, and whether or not he should allow them into his life. He’d survived quite well all these years without either one, and had determined finally that he didn’t need either one of them now. 

His other dilemma was his reoccurring nightmare, and he was determined to find a way to get a handle on it. 

Some aspects of the dream were always the same: the mist, his being awakened by the sound of screaming and then trying to find his mum. And now there was another consistency; Harry always seemed to turn up. 

As Severus had been thinking about his new resolve and his nightmare, he’d somehow managed to cross the orchard and now found himself standing under the pergola, staring at the fattest, largest, most colorful of all Madame’s flowers. He raised his hand and almost picked it…but then stopped. He lowered his hand but continued to stare at the rose. 

_I will not be weak! And damn it—I will NOT think about Harry, anymore!_

Leaving the rose behind, he turned determinately, walked back up to the house and activated the Portkey. 

~~~~~ 

Careful where he stepped, lest he fall through one of the creaky floor boards, Lucius Malfoy walked methodically as he inspected the interior of a small shack located on the southern outskirts of Aberdeen. He wore his leather gloves and made certain not to touch anything. 

The cabin was old and dank, and every square inch of the place was covered with a solid layer of musty dirt. 

“How ever did you find this... hovel? 

“It’s perfect, don’t you think?” responded Gibbon. “Come, look outside.” 

The two Death Eaters stepped outside and Gibbon waited anxiously as Malfoy had a look around. The shrubs and trees were so overgrown that it was impossible to see the building from the road. 

“You’ve checked the surrounding area?”asked Malfoy. 

“Of course I have. I wouldn’t have sent for you if I didn’t think it would work.” 

Lucius had another look around. The shack and its remote hidden location were exactly what they needed, but Lucius had to be certain. His reputation, his very life and that of his family, was dependant on his success in accomplishing his part of this mission. 

“I had better check for myself. Wait here,” Lucius commanded as he Apparated away. 

He Apparated all around the nearby area and saw nothing but dense growth. It was completely screened off from the distant road which led to the nearby town. Gibbon was right; this shack would indeed serve their needs quite nicely. 

“So, was I right? I am, aren’t I? I told you so,” Gibbon went on when Lucius returned. 

“Yes, yes this will work just fine. Clean it up, cast a ward around it and then start on your next assigned area. I’ll report back to the Dark Lord and inform him of our progress.” 

~~~~~ 

Albus scooped out a spoonful of his soft boiled egg as he casually turned the page of the Daily Prophet. He was enjoying a leisurely breakfast and half listening to the conversation taking place across the table when the sound of approaching footsteps caused him to look up from the paper. 

“Why Severus, you’ve returned.” Dumbledore’s greeting sounded more like an announcement. 

“Snape old man,” added Filius, “how was London?” 

“Severus, you simply must come see the new crop of aconite,” Pamona appeared ready to escort him to the greenhouses that very second. 

“Pamona, Filius,” Severus acknowledged them both but then turned and spoke in a hushed voice to Dumbledore, “Albus, may I speak with you privately?” 

Not waiting for a response, Severus headed toward the antechamber. 

“What’s the matter, Severus?” asked Dumbledore as he entered the antechamber and closed the door behind him. 

“Nothing really, it’s simply that…” he grimaced back in the direction of the Great Hall. 

Dumbledore chuckled. “Yes, Filius and Pamona can be a bit zealous.” 

“Actually, ...” he lifted his left forearm slightly. 

“The Dark Mark?” asked Albus. 

“It’s only an ache. The Dark Lord knew I was returning today and he is simply reminding me that my first priority is to see to his needs.” Severus brushed his hair back. “He’s probably running low on Restorative Potion.” 

“How long do you expect to be away?” 

“Only one day. Is Harry ready? Has he read the text?” 

“Indeed he has Severus.” 

“Good, because I don’t want to waste my time if he isn’t prepared.” 

It was subtle, but Albus noted a harshness in Severus’s voice. “Is something the matter?” 

“Not at all,” he responded a bit too quickly. 

“Are you having second thoughts about working with him?” asked Albus. 

“I didn’t say that,” Severus answered defensively. “At any rate, I need to leave. Will you please inform Harry to meet me outside the Room of Requirement at seven o’clock tomorrow evening?” 

“Of course I will.” Albus knew something was amiss. 

“Were you able to make the special modifications?” asked Severus. 

“Yes, the castle was quite receptive,” Albus answered enthusiastically. “I must say, I’d love to join you the two of you, if you could manage to fit me into one of your scenarios.” 

“I’m sure I can arrange something, Albus. Now if you’ll excuse me, I really need to get going. Please give my regards to Pamona and Filius…I’m going to slip out through the rose garden.” 

Severus turned and began walking toward the French doors. 

“Are you going to see Harry?” asked Dumbledore. 

Misinterpreting the Headmaster’s question, Severus turned and replied in a quipped voice, “Albus, I told you- I must be going. Now please, just give my message to Harry.” 

Albus watched with concern as Severus turned and proceeded toward the rear of the room. “Certainly Severus, I’ll be happy to.” 

~~~~~ 

Once he stepped outside, Severus leaned back against the doors and released a sigh as he stared out at the rose garden and thought about how he already missed the quiet solitude of the villa. 

He started to walk down the steps but froze at the sight that unveiled itself before him. There between two of the rows of rose bushes, he watched as Harry stood up raised his arms straight up over his head, arched his back and stretched. 

He’d taken off his shirt because of the heat and was wearing only a pair of worn faded jeans. And to make matters worse, the thin layer of sweat Harry had worked up seemed to be glistening upon his skin in the light from the morning sun. 

_He’s gorgeous,_ was Severus's initial gut reaction and he could have hexed himself for thinking it. 

Harry turned around and was startled when he saw his professor standing there at the top of the stairs. 

“Sir! You’re back!” 

Severus typically excelled at maintaining his cool demeanor, but it seemed to be lacking at this particular moment. “Yes, I am.” 

Harry walked straight toward Snape with happiness written all over his face. “When did you get back?” 

“What are you doing?” 

Harry stopped. “What do you mean?” 

Severus tried again. “What are you doing out here?” 

“Oh,” Harry relaxed and smiled, “I’m just working on the roses.” 

Amazed, Severus turned to look at the many bushes, then turned back to Harry. “You?” 

“Why are you surprised?” Harry responded in defense. “I told you I like roses,” then added before Snape could get a word in, “I always pruned my aunt’s roses when I lived at the Dursleys'.” Harry looked back at the sea of color then added, “I missed it. So, I asked the Headmaster if I could maintain these roses during vacation. 

Severus now cast a critical eye on the rose bushes. They did seem to be thriving and were apparently pruned correctly. 

“Why aren’t you using your wand?” he asked as he pointed to the pair of pruning shears Harry was holding. 

“Well, you see Sir…I learned to prune roses the Muggle way.” Harry looked down at the simple hand tool then continued, “I tried using my wand to do a couple of prunings, but I didn’t like the way it felt, so I went back to doing it the Muggle way.” 

Intrigued, Severus descended the remaining steps and came to a stand right in front of Harry. 

“May I?” he gestured toward the shears and Harry handed them to him. 

As Severus examined the odd Muggle device, the fact that he’d planned to keep his distance from Harry and that he would only interact with Harry with regards to curriculum seemed to slip his mind. 

“I’ve read about these…'pruning shears' as you call them.” He turned the shears over and over, having never before seen a pair let alone having held one. “But I can’t imagine you’d prefer using these over using a wand.” 

“You know why?” 

Severus thought that Harry was about to delve into some practical application. “Why?” 

“They’re more…” Harry stared over to the roses, “relaxing.” 

Severus looked at Harry as though he’d sprouted a second head. “Pruning?” 

“Pruning the Muggle way…Sir.” 

Severus now inspected the shears a little more closely. 

“I could show you,” Harry offered. 

Severus stared into the green eyes and thought how he wouldn’t like anything better than for Harry show him this strange Muggle skill. 

“Perhaps someday, I will take you up on your offer.” 

Severus had to look away from those beautiful eyes. “As for now,” he handed the shears back to Harry and their fingers touched. Neither one of them moved as they were both caught up in their own reaction to the unexpected encounter, but finally Severus pulled his hand away, “I must be going. I will see you tomorrow night.” 

Severus misinterpreted the intensity in Harry’s eyes for worry. 

“Don’t start again, Harry. You know that…” 

“Yes Sir, I know,” Harry interrupted Snape and the tone of his voice suggested a new maturity and understanding. 

“ _Defense comes from observations of activity,”_ Harry quoted a line from the text book he’d been reading, and then he leveled a knowing look at his professor. “That is your job Sir, to observe the activity of Voldemort and the Death Eaters.” 

Harry stepped back slightly and he became quite serious. “We each have a role in this effort…and that one is yours.” 

“Correct, Mr. Potter.” 

“And mine is to kill him…someday.” 

Even though Severus expected Harry to have gained a more insightful and informed perspective into his situation, to actually hear Harry speaking in such a clinical manner was unexpected. 

Severus nodded his approval and the two men now looked at each other in a new light, not just as professor and student, but as comrades in a common goal. 

“Good luck to you, Sir,” Harry offered. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow evening.” Severus’s delivery was slightly tempered. He then stepped around Harry and crossed the terrace. 

Severus’s mind was reeling from all that had just happened: his arousal at seeing Harry, his chest and toned back all sweaty, that tantalizing stretch of exposed skin and subtle wisp of dark hairs peeking just over the top of his jeans. And then, when their fingers had met….

Severus stopped, raised his hand and ran his fingers over that spot where they’d touched, remembering the tingling sensation and how it had nearly taken his breath away.

When Severus had arrived at Hogwarts that morning, he’d been resolute in his determination to not allow emotions, or Harry for that matter, disrupt his life. But after only a couple of hours at the school, or more specifically—after only a few minutes in the company of one Harry Potter, Severus quickly realized that accomplishing this goal was going to be one hell of a challenge. 

"Dammit," he sighed. 

Then, Occluding for all he was worth, Severus hid his thoughts, turned and Apparated to the lair of the Dark Lord. 

~~~~~ 

Author Notes:   
The Orkney Island chain. They really exist and are located north of Scotland. According to JKR, Azkaban is located in the North Sea. So I found a place in the vicinity that would work to my means.


	21. Passages

  
Author's notes: Hi everyone. Sorry this chapter took so long, but here it is. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all of you.  
Severus is coming around...finally.   
All rights belong to JKR, etc....  
I can never thank Steppenwolf enough for her expertise and honesty.  
Please enjoy.  


* * *

21\. Passeges 

 

Harry rounded the corner of the seventh floor corridor and paused at the sight of Snape standing in front of the Room of Requirement. It wasn’t so much the fact that he was standing there waiting, but more so the way he was dressed. 

Snape had forgone his traditional black robes and was instead wearing Muggle clothes…really _nice_ Muggle clothes. 

Harry quickened his pace. “Am I late, Sir?” _God, look at his hair._

“Not at all; I simply came early to prepare the room for your practical.” 

As Harry approached, Severus became aware of that feeling he’d experienced sometimes around Harry: the feeling he’d come to realize meant that Harry was nervous. 

“Are you nervous?” 

“No, Sir,” Harry lied, "I’m just anxious to finally start using everything I’ve learned this past month." _And it doesn’t help that you’re looking so…_

Harry couldn’t think of just one word to describe the way Snape looked this evening. It wouldn’t be handsome, because Snape wasn’t. But he really did look good, in his own way. And his hair — it just seemed to..." 

“Do I have your attention?” asked Snape. 

“Oh, I’m sorry Sir, I was just thinking about _your hair_ um…all the material I read.” 

“Very well then, as I was saying…This evening we will begin to implement the tactics and strategies discussed in the text. I will attempt to present these skills in a manner that will enable you to build upon each one previously learned.” 

“Thank you, Sir.” 

“Tonight’s practical involves ascertaining hazards and possible foes when entering a new environment. Your task is to choose an optimal strategic position and to take the appropriate actions that will safeguard yourself against attack.” 

Harry’s eyes grew wide. “You mean like the mock battle exercise I had last semester?” 

Severus paused and raised an eyebrow. “That ‘mock battle’ as you call it, was an example of an obvious attack and defense. In these scenarios your attacker and your countermeasures will not be as overt.” 

“Yes Sir.” 

“If any spell is successfully cast upon you, it will only result in a mild Stinging hex. Also, if you touch a Portkey, you will only feel a minor sting. These measures are only to make you aware of the fact that you were not successful in a particular encounter.” 

“Okay.” Harry may have said ‘okay’ but now that he realized there were going to be faux enemies and Portkeys awaiting him, he actually _was_ nervous. Then he remembered who he was standing in front of and that Snape was an expert. 

“Sir, before we begin— if you were to give me any advice, what would it be?” 

Harry’s request took Severus off guard, and he appreciated the fact that Harry had asked him. “I would advise you to remain dispassionate. Try to operate from an objective point of view.” 

Harry glanced over to the door and silently nodded his head. 

Severus didn’t plan to do this, it just sort of happened, but he reached over and put his hand on Harry’s shoulder. 

“It will be all right. Even if you make a mistake, you will not be hurt. You need only use defensive spells, but if you do feel the need to take offensive measures…” 

“I’ll just use a Stinging hex,” Harry took a quick breath and blew it out, “I’m ready, Sir.” 

Severus let go of Harry’s shoulder and they both turned to face the Room of Requirement. 

~~~~~ 

When the doors opened, Harry and Severus stepped into what appeared to be a tavern, complete with a bar and bartender, several rickety small wooden tables and a scattering of patrons all of whom looked up from their drinks when the two wizards entered the room. 

Harry looked around in amazement. He had no idea the Room of Requirement could do something like this. It was as if they’d been transported to an entirely different place. 

“Sir, how did you do this?” 

Severus leaned over and whispered, “It’s called magic.” 

Harry smirked at the quip and was about to press the matter, but Snape continued. 

“Instead of talking to me, what should you be doing at this very moment?” 

Thoroughly rebuffed, Harry turned back to scan the room and then pointed to the little table over on the left. Snape nodded his approval. 

The two wizards walked over, sat down at the small round table and positioned themselves so that they both faced the room. 

“Did you two come in here for the hell of it, or are you going to order some drinks?” barked the bartender from behind the bar. 

Harry turned to Snape. “Sir, who _are_ these people? Are they real?” 

The look he received told him he’d just gone off target — again. 

Harry cleared his throat and tried sitting a bit taller in his chair. “Butterbeer,” he called across the room. 

“Scotch,” ordered Snape. Then he asked softly, “What is your impression of the patrons seated at the other tables?” 

“They all look a bit dodgy, all except for that little old woman over there.” 

Severus flicked a glance at the woman wearing a pink tattered tweed jacket, her badly dyed hair stuck out from under a hat that had seen better days. 

“Why would you assume that, Harry? For all you know she could be a Death Eater that has taken Pollyjuice Potion or wearing a glamour.” 

Their drinks arrived and Harry started to reach for his mug of Butterbeer— but stopped. He instead reached into his pocket and pulled out the Sneakoscope Ron had given him back in third year. When he held it near the drink, it lit up started whirling around in a circle. 

Aghast, Harry looked to Snape who in turn was staring disapprovingly at the juvenile Dark Detector. None the less, he nodded his approval at Harry’s success, then incanted ‘Evanesco’. 

The Portkey disappeared. “We’ll have another,” Snape called over to the bartender. 

The ‘safe’ Butterbeer arrived and as the two men drank, Snape quizzed Harry on his assessment of the room, its patrons, their positioning, the means of entry and exit, and so on. 

As they were finishing their drinks, the woman in the pink tweed jacket got up from where she’d been sitting and started to walk toward the door. 

Harry watched her every step, just waiting for her to pull a wand on him. When she placed her hand on the knob, Harry was hit in the midsection on his left side by a Stinging Hex. 

He hissed from the pain but turned quickly in response and called out, “Expelliarmus.” 

Just as the bartender’s wand flew into the air, Harry was hit again by another Stinging Hex, but this time it came from his right and slamed solidly into his shoulder. 

Grimacing, he turned back toward the door and this time he wordlessly incanted Expelliarmus while at the same time, he threw up a strong Shield Charm around himself and Snape. 

Harry kept his sights on the pink clad witch and the bartender as he waited for someone else to mount an attack — but no one did. 

Severus called out, “That will be all for today.” 

At his words, the tavern disappeared as well as the bartender and patrons, everyone except the witch in the pink tweed jacket who after a few moments casually waved her hand in an arcing motion to remove the glamour, and there stood none other than Albus Dumbledore. 

“You can drop the shield now Harry,” Severus suggested calmly. 

Mazed, Harry did so then proceeded to rub his sore shoulder and stared from Snape to Dumbledore, who was walking toward them with a big smile on his face. 

“Well done Harry, well done!” He waited for Harry to drop his shield then sat down to join them at the little table, conjured two shot glasses and then pulled out a silver flask from a pocket in his rose colored robe. 

Dumbledore poured a tiny bit of the amber liquid into one of the glasses and offered it to Harry. He then poured a glass for himself and freshened Severus’s drink. 

“So Severus, what do you think of Harry’s performance this evening?” asked Dumbledore. 

“I think we should ask Harry,” Severus responded and they both turned to look at the still-shocked young wizard. 

Trying to regroup, Harry took a tiny sip of the Scotch which burned his throat when he swallowed, but at this point— he didn’t care. “I guess I failed.” 

“You did no such thing!” countered Dumbledore. 

“But I got hit — twice!” 

“And what did you learn from that?” asked Snape. 

Harry thought a moment then drew in a sudden breath as he realized what it was Snape and Dumbledore had done. 

“You two did that misdirection tactic thing… didn’t you,” he leveled accusingly. 

“That we did Harry,” responded Dumbledore with a wink, “and I believe I made for a very effective distraction. Did you like the tweed jacket?” 

Harry was dumbfounded. 

“You see Harry,” interjected Snape, “how these strategic theories can be put into play?” 

“I do now, Sir…and I fell for it.” Harry held up his hand as Dumbledore was about to placate him once again. “It’s okay Sir, I learned something from this practical," then he turned to look at Snape, "and I won’t fall for it again.” 

Snape leveled an appraising look at Harry and silently took a sip of his scotch. 

~~~~~ 

The next day the two wizards went all around Hogwarts, visiting the places Harry would typically go during a school day: the Great Hall, the Quidditch Pitch and changing room, along the hallways and in the classrooms. They discussed the strategic advantages and disadvantages of each spot and how Harry could best position himself to ensure his safety. 

The following practical, Snape and Harry were back at the Room of Requirement, only this time the room had transformed itself into a recreation of Knockturn Alley. 

The two wizards were standing on a shadowy side alley. It was dark and a heavy mist filling the air, covering the cobblestones and buildings with wet. 

“For your practical tonight,” Snape spoke softly, “you are to make your way down the alley.”

“All right.” Harry shivered from the cold and he could see his warm breath as it hit the chilly night air. 

“You are to proceed alone. I will watch your progress from a vantage point two blocks away. 

This announcement took Harry by surprise.

“Do you feel you ready for this, or would you prefer I stay by your side?” asked Snape coolly.

It was obvious from the tone of Snape’s voice that he was challenging Harry. And even though the thought of a Knockturn Alley with awaiting foes behind every door was intimidating, there was no way Harry was about to ask for help now.

“No Sir. Thank you, but I want to give it a try.”

“Very well then, I will see you shortly.” Snape partly opened the old wooden door he was standing in front of, “Good luck, Harry.” Then he turned and slipped out of sight. 

_Fuck!_ Harry tensed, pressed himself flat against the wet stone wall and pulled out his wand. _Calm down, Potter and for God’s sake don’t freak out and have a surge!_

Harry cast a Shield charm around himself then took a couple of deep breaths to chase off his nerves. _Okay now, all of this is meant to intimidate you, so don’t let it._

He looked toward Knockturn Alley and tried to come up with a quick plan of action.

_Think,_ he told himself. _Think of what you’ve learned._

After a few moments, Harry came up with a plan, pulled himself up straight, faced the alley then very carefully cast both a Geminio and then a Disillusionment charm upon him. 

As the real Harry began to blend into the stone of the walls and the road, the fake Harry walked out and turned onto Knockturn Alley.

Staying close to the buildings, Harry followed his image down the alley and sure enough in only a matter of moments; a dark clad figure appeared from a dark doorway and leveled a Stinging hex at the Harry image who continued on his way, completely unfazed by the assault.

In turn, the real Harry shot his own Stinging hex to the foe who then fell back into the doorway. 

_It worked!_ Harry thought in relief.

He and his image continued down the alley with the attack scenario playing out every thirty feet or so.

As they neared the end of the second block, yet another attacker appeared and cast a hex upon the fake Harry. But this time, when the real Harry countered, a different foe appeared and cast a number Stinging hexes in the general vicinity where Harry’s hex had originated. 

Harry was hit on his cheek. The pain was extraordinary, causing him to lose his balance and fall over a pile of crates.

He landed face first and heard the sharp _crack_ of his nose as it broke.

It was all Harry could do not to pass out from the compounded pain of both injuries. He struggled to his feet and tried as best he could just to get to the end of the block, leaving the fake Harry to saunter along and be hit time and time again by Stinging hexes.

When he reached the end, Harry fell back against one of the buildings and slid down to sit upon the wet cobblestones. He ended the Geminio spell but kept the Disillusionment one in place.

After a few silent moments, Severus emerged from a dark alcove and stepped hesitantly out into full view.

“Harry?” He heard nothing and his call was greeted by silence. “Harry?” His voice was more intent this time, “Where are you?”

When Harry dropped the spell, Severus turned and looked down at the young wizard sitting upon the ground with his blood covered hand held to his blood covered face.

“I take it you were the cause of the mishap with the pile of crates?”

Not daring to nod his head or try to speak; Harry instead raised his index finger in acknowledgement.

Severus walked over and knelt down. “Let me see.”

Harry lowered his hand to reveal his now crooked, bloody nose.

“Would you like me to fix it, or would you prefer Madame Pomfrey?”

Harry’s green eyes grew wide and he pointed directly to Snape.

“All right, then… Hold still, this might sting.” Severus aimed his wand, “Episkey.”

“Owwwwwww!” Harry grimaced and tried to move away.

“Just a moment,” Severus placed his hand gently upon Harry’s chest and then cast, “Tergeo,” to sop up all the blood.

“Just sit there for a moment Harry.”

“I don’t think I could do much else.” He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall of the building. “Well, I suppose I failed.”

Severus wasn’t surprised at Harry’s assessment. “You’re always so hard on yourself. I thought your choice of tactics was rather clever.”

Surprised at the unexpected praise, Harry looked at Snape in disbelief. “How can you say that? Look where I wound up.”

Severus held his hands slightly out to his sides. “Is this or is this not the end of the alley?”

Harry glanced around. “I suppose it is,” he said in a quiet voice.

“You did succeed, Harry. Granted, a bit worse for the ware…but you did succeed.”

Then Severus indulged a very rare smile which put Harry at ease, and he thought to himself how very nice Snape looked…when he smiled.

~~~~~

All that week, Severus recreated several places with which he was familiar, places that would provide unique situations for Harry to practice his new skills. 

Harry was amazed to learn that Snape was so well traveled and that he knew so much about all these different places. Of all the places they visited that week, and even though Harry wouldn't know this fact for years to come--his favorite place turned out to be one of Severus's favorites. 

It was the Pontevecchio in Florence, Italy, and Severus had planned this outing as part of a birthday gift for Harry. 

~~~~~ 

By the time the doors opened and the two wizards walked out onto the ancient bridge, the sun had already begun to set. 

Harry had never seen anything like the Pontevecchio, what with its many stores lining both sides of the bridge. 

They began to walk along the expanse, stopping in each shop to examine the wares being offered for sale. It was all so fascinating, Harry wished he could just relax and enjoy the adventure, but he knew he had to stay on guard. 

It took almost two hours to cross the bridge, during which time there were five attempted attacks. Harry succeeded in defending himself each time using only Shield charms and Expelliarmus. He was tired by the time they reached the other end yet pleased with his success, but not more so than Severus. 

Severus had realized over the week just how much effort Harry had put into learning the principles of Intelligence and Tactics. And slowly he was succumbing to the fact that: yes they did share common interests, yes he did admire Harry’s tenacity and sincerity, and yes Harry had indeed grown into a beautiful man, but aside from all of that—Severus had finally accepted the fact that maybe…just maybe he’d have to acknowledge his growing feelings for this young wizard. 

“You did very well, Harry.” 

“Thank you, Sir,” Harry sighed. 

“Would you care for some dinner?” 

Those beautiful green eyes grew wide. “What…here?” 

“Yes…here,” answered Severus. 

“Truth is Sir, I’d love to relax and just enjoy this place. I’ve never seen anything like it.” 

Severus smiled. “Then let’s go eat.” 

~~~~~ 

They took an outside table at a little tratoria on the far end of the bridge. Severus ordered for both of them as Harry relaxed and enjoyed listening to his professor speak Italian. 

“I didn’t know you spoke Italian, Sir.” 

“I spent my summers in Italy, when I was a child.” 

“Here? In Florence?” 

Severus got a faraway look on his face, “A little further north, but still in Tuscany.” 

As they dined on pasta and red wine, Harry and Severus finally had a chance to relax and talk about their mutual interests, Severus’s travels, and how one went about performing daily tasks and basically living life without the use of magic. 

Before they knew it, it was almost midnight. Soon Harry would turn seventeen and reach his majority. 

Severus placed a small box upon the table. 

“Happy Birthday, Harry,” he spoke softly. 

Surprised, Harry looked from the small box then over to his professor. 

Severus thought this might be his undoing, but he was determined to say it. “I want you to know how very pleased I am with your accomplishments this past week, and...” He drew a fortifying breath, “I enjoyed our time together.” 

Harry couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. Not only was he in awe of Snape and had been having wild dreams about him all summer, but now Snape goes and says _that_ right after showing Harry the most exciting week of his life. 

“Sir, I don’t know what to say.” 

Severus misinterperated Harry's words. “I apologize Harry, I suppose…” 

Harry reached across the table but didn’t dare touch Snape. “No Sir, what I meant was—Thank you. Thank you for taking me to all these places and for taking the time to teach me and advise me about strategy.” 

The moment was still and quiet as Severus relaxed his guard. “You’re welcome, Harry.” 

“And, Sir?” 

Severus looked up, certain that Harry was about to say he wasn’t interested. 

“I enjoyed spending time with you too; it’s nice to be able to talk to someone about roses." Harry glanced down shyly, "You're the only one I can share that with.” 

At that very moment, Severus thought he felt heart skip a beat. “Are you going to open your present?” 

“Oh yeah,” Harry smiled as he reached for the gift. 

Inside the little box was an odd, silver…thing. “What is it, Sir?” 

“That, Harry, is a Dark Detector. A tasteful and discreet Dark Detector.” 

Harry giggled. “I guess the Sneakoscope is a bit much.” 

“A bit,” added Severus. He looked at Harry’s face basked in the light from the full moon. “There’s something else I’d like to say.” 

“Yes, Sir?” 

“It’s more of a request actually.” 

Harry couldn’t think what Snape might want or need from him. “What Sir? Did I offend you?” 

“No Harry, it’s just the opposite. I have come to regard you as more than just a student.” Severus was certain that this had to be one of the most difficult undertakings of his life. “Last semester, I never could quite understand the ease between you and Professor Jackson.” 

“We were friends, we still are,” Harry said the words easily. 

Severus had wanted to say that he too thought of Harry as a friend, but he couldn’t manage to say the words. “I’d appreciate it if…” he stopped. 

“What Sir?” 

“I’d like it if you called me by my first name,” Severus looked down, feeling uncomfortably vulnerable. 

Harry had seen this side of Snape only a couple times before, and each time had been under extreme circumstances. But tonight Snape had knowingly reached out and placed himself in a vulnerable position. “All right…Severus.” Harry liked the way it felt when he said the name and he waited for Severus to look back up at him. “It feels right,” said Harry. 

“Well, I suppose we should be getting back.” Severus started to end the replication. 

“No wait Sir! I mean, Severus. Could we please just walk back across the bridge _without_ any attacks? I’m not ready for this to end, not just yet.” 

Severus smiled, “All right Harry. It’s your birthday.” 

They got up and strolled back across the bridge. They walked right next to each other and several times their arms brushed together causing each man to stir, but neither dared make a definitive move. 

When they came to the other end of the bridge, the clock in the Palazzo Vecchio began to chime. When it chimed twelve times Harry stopped and smiled quietly to himself. 

“Happy Birthday, Harry.” Severus had barely said the words when the smile on Harry’s face vanished and was replaced with a curious expression. 

“What is it?” 

“I don’t know. I feel…” Then Harry realized what was about to happen. “Oh no.” His breaths started coming faster and faster. “Get back, Sir. Get back!” 

“Why? What’s wrong?” 

"Severus!" Harry’s curious expression grew into a look of terror. “Get away from me! It’s happening again! Hurry!” 

Severus realized what Harry was referring to and he backed away then called out, “That is all for today!” 

The recreation ended and the two wizards were left standing in the middle of the large, now empty room. 

Harry began to tremble and a rumbling noise could be heard as the entire castle started to shake. 

Then all of a sudden, Harry’s body stiffened and he arched backwards. Severus watched helplessly as Harry’s entire body was engulfed in a blinding white light. 

But instead of this energy shooting out in all directions, it seemed to be enveloping Harry. 

Severus moved as close as he could and even though the episode lasted only seconds, to Severus it seemed like an eternity. 

Slowly the rumbling quieted and the light energy began to draw itself inside of Harry until it was completely gone and all was quiet and still. 

Severus approached cautiously. “Harry?” 

Harry was still standing, his body was now relaxed and he opened his eyes. 

“Can you hear me?” Severus reached out and tentatively touched Harry’s shoulder. 

He was terribly pale and he seemed to be in a daze, but he began to look around the room as if he were seeing everything for the first time. 

Severus stepped even closer and now placed a hand on each shoulder. “Harry?” he spoke softly, “Are you all right?” 

Harry’s gaze drifted back toward Severus. 

He lifted his hand and gently cupped Severus’s cheek. His fingers drifted over and lingered momentarily upon Severus’s lips until his hand floated downward and pressed up tightly against Severus’s chest…right over his heart. 

For Severus, it was as if time had stopped. Harry was touching him as no one ever had, and he thought he might collapse from the sheer gentleness of Harry’s touch. 

At that very moment, Severus wanted nothing more than to embrace Harry and hold onto him, to release all he’d kept inside for so very long. But all of a sudden — Harry began to stagger. His gaze drifted upward and he looked into the ebony eyes as if he could see straight into Severus’s very soul. 

“Sev…” Harry whispered just as his eyes closed and he collapsed in Severus’s arms. 

 

~~~~~ 

Author's notes:  
Thanks to Wickpedia for its detailed discussion on Military Strategies and Tactics


	22. Seeing Through the Haze

  
Author's notes: All rights belong to JKR and the gang. My thanks to Steppenwolf for her spot on editing and honesty.   


* * *

22\. Seeing Through the Haze 

 

A low rumble stirred Dumbledore from a sound sleep and he stared out across his moonlit bedroom. 

It took only seconds for him to place the signature of the tremor, but by the time he had pulled back his bedcovers the tremor had stopped. 

The sudden stillness was stark in comparison. 

“Phineas! Quickly go and ask Diana to check on Harry Potter.” 

“Really Albus,” whined the portrait, “it _is_ the middle of the night. I’m not about to go…” 

“Now! And report back to me immediately or you’ll find yourself hanging in some dusty attic.” 

“Oh, very well,” Phineas huffed as he sauntered out of his portrait. 

Dumbledore slipped into his silky aborigine robe and made to exit his bedroom, but stopped at Phineas’s return. 

“She reports that he isn’t in his suite of rooms.” 

Dumbledore stared up at the portrait. “Has she seen him at all this evening?” 

“Albus come here,” called Dilys from down the hallway. 

He moved quickly to the portrait. “Yes Dilys, what do you know?” 

“Albus, Sir Cadagon reports that he saw young Harry enter the Room of Requirement earlier this evening with Severus, and that they did not come out.” 

“Thank you,” Dumbledore whispered then hurried toward his office. 

“Fawkes,” he called out, “please take me to…” but before he could finish his sentence, the crimson bird flew over, grasped Albus’s outstretched hand in his talon, and the two disappeared in a blaze. 

~~~~~ 

His Familiar deposited Dumbledore in the middle of the Room of Requirement right next to Severus and Harry, and he immediately knelt down beside them. 

“What happened?” 

Harry had partially come around and was leaning up against Severus who looked up at Dumbledore with accusation in his eyes. 

“What do you think happened?” He spat back at the old wizard. “Why didn’t you warn me?” 

“Warn you about what?” Albus was shocked at Severus’s verbal attack. 

“Think old man,” snarled Severus. “What day is it?” 

And Albus gasped as realization dawned. “Harry came into his full power.” 

“Obviously.” 

Dumbledore reached out. “Please Severus, why are you upset with me?” 

“You’re saying this didn’t happen to you?” he spat back. 

Dumbledore held his hands out in dismay and his own voice now began to rise. “You haven’t told what _did_ happen.” 

Severus returned his attention to his dazed friend. “Can you stand Harry? We should have Poppy check you for injuries.” 

“But she isn’t here,” Dumbledore’s voice was apprehensive. 

Severus closed his eyes and seethed. “What do you mean — 'she isn’t here'.” 

“She left for her holiday, only yesterday.” Dumbledore looked down at Harry, then determinately back to Severus. 

“Take him to the infirmary,” he ordered Severus, “and I will go find Poppy.” 

Severus was about to comply, but Harry grabbed at Severus’s robes and pulled him close. 

“No,” he croaked. “I want… to go to my rooms.” 

“But you’re injured, Harry.” 

“No, I’m not.” He leaned his head against Severus’s chest. “Please Sev, I just need to sleep.” 

Severus’s entire demeanor softened in response to Harry's plea, and Albus was dismayed by the sudden intimacy between the two wizards. 

“All right,” Severus acquiesced. 

“I think it best to avoid using any magic,” Albus added cautiously, “until we find out what we’re dealing with.” 

“I agree,” added Severus and he looked over to Albus with a curious expression. 

Dumbledore placed his hand on Severus’s shoulder, “I’ll find Poppy and bring her to the suite. 

~~~~~ 

Severus was exhausted by the time he got Harry down to his suite and into to bed. Even more, Severus literally felt shaken to his core. 

He transfigured a nearby chair into a small bed, collapsed onto it and fell immediately asleep. 

That was how Albus and Poppy found them an hour or so later. She examined both wizards and reported her findings to Albus. 

“There’s nothing I can do for Harry, Albus. He needs to rest and be patient until his condition improves. But it’s imperative that he be protected during this phase,” she regarded the young wizard sleeping in his bed. 

“Once this settles, he’ll need guidance in how to handle his new powers.” She turned back to Dumbledore, “He also needs to be warned about being careful when he’s around others.” 

“Of course Poppy, I understand,” Albus acknowledged her then looked across the room with worried eyes. “And what of Severus?” 

“Both his physical and magical readings are slightly off. A couple of days' rest and he should be fine.” 

She reached out and took hold of Dumbledore’s arm. “Perhaps I should cancel my holiday.” 

“No Poppy… You said it yourself, there’s nothing you can do.” He cupped his arm against her back and led her out of the bedroom. “I’ll send Fawkes to you should anything arise.” 

~~~~~ 

The sun ascended on the distant horizon to create a soft greeting of peach and orange, on this dawning of Harry’s seventeenth birthday. 

Albus sat on Harry’s balcony staring out at the sunrise when the approach of an owl carrying yet another birthday gift caught his eye. 

The Boreal owl sailed in through one of the French doors, only to fly back out moments later minus his load. 

“Headmaster Dumbledore, Sir?” 

Albus started at the tiny voice and glanced down to see Dobby standing beside him. 

“Yes Dobby?” 

“Headmaster Sir, Dobby is bringing tea,” the lilt in his voice mirrored the droop of his ears. 

“Thank you, Dobby.” Albus stood up. “That was very considerate of you.” 

“Dobby is wanting to do something to help.” Dobby began to pull on one of his ears. 

“Try not to worry,” Dumbledore patted Dobby’s shoulder. “Harry will be fine. He just had a busy night, that’s all.” 

“Perhaps if Dobby is making Harry Potter a treacle tart for his birthday?” Dobby’s asked hopefully, “Harry Potter might be feeling better?” 

“I’m sure he would appreciate that.” 

Dobby ears perked up a bit and he smiled then Disapparated. 

~~~~~ 

“How long was I out?” 

Albus was sitting on one of the couches indulging in a quiet cup of tea, when Severus appeared in the bedroom doorway. 

“About six hours, my friend.” Albus watched Severus as he walked from the bedroom and slumped onto the couch opposite where he’d been sitting and drinking some of the tea. He noted Severus’s pallid complexion and the dark circles under his eyes. 

“Let me fix you a cup of tea,” Albus offered in a consoling voice. “You look as though you could use some.” He handed the cup to his friend and waited for him to take a few well paced sips before starting up the necessary conversation. 

“Please accept my apology, Severus. I had _no_ idea Harry’s transition would be so monumental.” 

“Albus stop,” countered Severus. “I…” He closed his eyes and paused as he rested his throbbing head against his outstretched hand. “It is I who needs to apologize to _you._ He sighed and added, “I was out of sorts.” 

“And with good reason, my friend.” 

Severus lifted his sable gaze from under the canopy of his fingers. “You found Poppy?” 

Dumbledore nodded. “She came and examined both of you.” He regarded the younger man before him with compassion, “Harry wasn’t the only one compromised by last night’s events.” 

“I’m listening.” 

“Both your physical and magical levels have been impaired.” 

“What?” Severus stiffened. “Mine?” 

“Calm down, my boy,” Dumbledore reached out his hand, “it’s only temporary. Apparently being so close to Harry during his transition…well, it had a draining affect on you. But Poppy states that you need only to take it easy for a couple of days.” 

Albus looked over his rimmed glasses and added sternly, “That includes abstaining from using any magic, whatsoever.” 

Severus’s mind began to swirl. _No magic? For Days?_ Dates, commitments, his duties: they all started to flash through his unfocused haze. But then it dawned on him that he hadn’t even yet considered Harry. 

“Albus…What about Harry? Is he all right?” 

“Not to worry, not to worry. He’ll be fine.” 

The haze cleared just a bit. “Could you be a bit more specific?” 

“According to Poppy’s findings,” Albus paused as he himself was still having trouble grasping her findings, “Harry’s magical powers have nearly doubled.” 

The ebony eyes grew wide. “Doubled,” Severus whispered. 

“Yes…yet even so, his condition at present is precarious.” 

Severus sat forward and placed his teacup upon the table, and only just noticed the pile of birthday gifts and cards. “What do you mean?” 

“Poppy believes that the surge caused a reactionary effect.” 

“I don’t understand, Albus.” 

“She described this reaction as though he’d been burned by his own magic.” Dumbledore sighed. “For all his newfound powers, Harry must not be exposed to _any_ magic. Not until he has recovered.” Albus grew quite serious and then added, “Any exposure…could prove fatal.” 

In his current state, Severus simply sat in stunned silence. 

“Thankfully we have one month before the start of term. The quiet of the castle and scarcity of inhabitants should work well to both of your needs. ” Albus drew a deep breath and moved to set down his empty cup when he stopped suddenly, then practically dropped his cup as he snatched one of the postcards sitting on the table. 

“Severus, did you see this?” 

“Did I see what?” 

Albus held the postcard close to his face as he inspected the photo on the front. Then, he quickly turned it over to read the subject location. “Ireland!” he said in amazement, “I don’t believe it.” 

“Believe what? What _are_ you talking about?” insisted Severus. 

Agape, the old wizard handed over the postcard. “Look at this.” 

Severus took the postcard and inspected the photo. His heart nearly stopped. “Dear Merlin.” He also turned the card over to read the location address then looked to Dumbledore literally dumbfounded. 

“I am correct…aren’t I?” asked Albus. 

Severus nodded his head. “We must go at once and inspect the area.” 

“You can’t Severus.” Albus held a hand to his lips as he quickly thought of what needed doing. “Yes, we must go and investigate…but not you, my friend.” 

“But how else…” 

“Severus,” Albus stopped him midsentence, “no doubt Voldemort’s place of residence will be concealed. Even if it isn’t — all of us in The Order have viewed your recollection in the pensive, numerous times.” 

Despite his dazed state, Severus tried to find an argument which would allow him to participate. 

Dumbledore continued, “I must ask you to stay here and watch over Harry while I am gone investigating this new development. You know as well as I that Harry’s welfare is paramount to anything else.” 

Severus was already feeling lightheaded just from this momentary excitement. He leaned back into the couch and closed his eyes which he immediately realized was a bad idea, as the room started to spin and he immediately felt queasy. 

“Severus please, just rest. I will have the elves bring the two of you some food.” He paused as he remembered the need to isolate Harry from any magical activity. “The elves will have to Apparate to the hallway just outside the door and then walk in with the food.” 

“Albus, what are you talking about now.” 

Dumbledore moved to sit next to Severus, who was indeed even paler than before. “You must be certain not to allow any magical activity near Harry. Do you understand me?” 

Albus turned and looked worriedly toward the bedroom door. “Perhaps I should have asked Poppy to stay.” 

Severus reached over and took hold of Albus’s arm. “Calm down, old man. We’ll be fine. But please bring some vials of Restorative potion and Healing draft before you leave.” He sighed, “They should help.” 

~~~~~ 

Harry slowly became aware that he was ensconced within the cool silky sheets of his bed. 

Something wasn’t quite right, but he couldn’t place what was amiss. He was incredibly tired and his entire body felt heavy, as if he’d hardly be able to move a single limb if he had wanted to, which he didn’t. 

All Harry wanted to do was to lay there and go back to sleep. But then he heard an odd sound and he struggled to open his eyes. 

Something was sitting on his nightstand, so he reached for it and held it close to his face. It was a large card with the words: CAST NO SPELLS. CALL IF YOU NEED HELP, SEVERUS 

_What the hell?_

Then he heard that sound again and he almost called to Severus, but decided it might be wise to go and make sure that it was indeed, Severus whom was making the sound. 

That was easier thought than done, as Harry could barely get himself out of bed. He tried as best as he could to sneak over to the doorway, while at the same time trying not fall flat on his face. But what greeted him when he peered around the doorway caused him to gasp in surprise. 

There was Severus lying on one of the couches with a throw over him—reading Harry’s cookbook. 

“Sev!” 

“Harry, stay there. I’ll come and help you.” 

“I can make it…I think.” 

Albeit not too gracefully, Harry managed to get to the nearest couch before Severus could get up from the other one. 

Harry was wearing only a pair of pajama bottoms and felt chilled, even though the day was warm. So he raised his hand to summon his sweater lying on the back of the desk chair. Severus immediately recognized the motion. 

“Harry, stop! Do NOT cast any spells!” 

“You wrote that note,” his question sounded more like a confirmation. “But why?” 

“What were you about to summon?” 

“My sweater, over there.” 

Severus fetched the sweater then sat on the table right in front of Harry and handed it to him. As he waited for Harry to pull on the garment, Severus wondered _How in the world am I going to explain all of this to him?_

A sense of being watched pulled Severus from his preoccupation and he looked down to see emerald eyes that were for too knowing—looking straight at him and they made him feel uneasy. 

Harry reached over to touch Severus. “Sev,” he whispered. 

The quality of Harry’s gaze and the tone of his voice were dangerously sincere, and far too honest for Severus to face just yet, so he changed the subject. 

“I need to inform you of your current situation,” Severus responded clinically. 

Harry got the point and he withdrew his hand. “All right,” he said disappointedly. “So, why no spells?” 

Severus took a big breath and proceeded to explain to Harry everything that had happened: his coming into his full power, his current health status and the fact that he couldn’t perform or be exposed to any magic for the next week or so. Severus then reported on his own current health, that he would be keeping an eye on Harry for the next week, and topping off all of this was the fact that a postcard sent from Neville Longbottom showed the same township Severus had seen from the Dark Lord’s bedroom window, all those many months ago, and that Dumbledore and The Order were on their way to investigate. 

Stunned by all of this news, Harry simply stared in silence. 

“There’s one more thing.” 

Harry tried to ask ‘what’, but couldn’t seem to find his voice. 

“You’re magical power — it has doubled in strength. As soon as your condition of hypersensitivity has healed, we’ll need to work on redefining your spell casting to accommodate this new level.” 

This was all too much for Harry to take. He began to feel chilled again and despite the sweater, he started to shake. “I don’t feel so good.” 

Severus grabbed a vial of Calming draft, got Harry to drink it, and then placed the throw over him. 

“Just try to rest,” Severus consoled as he watched Harry’s eyes drift closed. “We’ll talk more later.” 

Harry slept away the afternoon while Severus spent it sitting out on the balcony. 

He sat staring out at the Forbidden Forest, remembering the events of the previous night and what he had felt when Harry had touched him so intimately. And Severus knew that in that moment, Harry had somehow looked past all his smoke screens and devices; that all his secrets had been laid bare to this powerful wizard. 

This vulnerability was almost impossible for Severus to bear; and now instead of being able to go and hide in his dungeon rooms, he had to stay in the same rooms with Harry — for days. 

But in contrast to all this brutal honesty and Harry’s impressive powers, was the fact that their apparent mutual interests gave Severus pleasance, whether he cared to acknowledge it or not. 

He looked down once more at the book sitting on his lap. He’d found it when he went into the small kitchen to look for a lemon for his tea. And there it was, sitting on the counter. 

Severus read the title again, ‘The Joy of Cooking,’ and a little smile crept upon his face as he noted the well worn edges and stained pages. 

“A Muggle cookbook,” he whispered, and he thought again about the Muggle pruning shears and roses. 

“Oh Harry, what am I going to do about you,” Severus sighed. And he fretted over the undeniable fact that with each encounter, with each minute shared together, Severus was falling more and more under the spell of Harry’s charm. 

 

~~~~~


	23. No Holds Barred

  
Author's notes: My thanks a million times over to Steppenwolf for her spot on editing and sincere observations.  
All rights belong to JKR and the gang.  


* * *

23\. No Holds Barred 

 

Harry awoke in the darkened sitting room and sat up wondering just how he’d ended up out here on one of the couches. But then he saw the CAST NO SPELLS card on the coffee table in front of him, and remembered. 

“Shit,” he said softly then grabbed his spectacles which were sitting next to the card, slumped back against the couch and sighed. 

Harry stared blankly at nothing specific and slowly recalled all that he’d been told earlier: that his magic had now doubled in strength but that he was injured or sick or something, and that he couldn’t use his magic for….how long? He couldn’t remember. 

Then he absently took hold of the amulet with the intent to slide it back and forth along its chain, a habit he’d picked up over the months of wearing it, but something was wrong. The amulet didn’t _feel_ right. 

He lifted it, held it in front of him and gasped when he saw the amulet — it was broken. 

“Oh no,” he whispered. “Damn.” _When did I break it?_ he wondered and rubbed the small remaining fragment back and forth between his thumb and forefinger. _It must have broken when that thing happened to me._

‘That thing’ had been the culmination of his full magic, and he remembered how everything around him had suddenly changed. It wasn’t that anything _looked_ different, it was his own perception that had changed. 

Now he could perceive the auras, as Channon called them, of things and objects, how they interacted with those of other objects and how his magic fit into all of this. It was all so obvious now. 

Then Harry recalled clearly what happened when he turned and saw Snape, no…Sev, standing next to him, how he looked into the man’s eyes and saw all that he was: his memories, his wounds and sadness, his confusion and intellect, those feelings of his which he kept buried deep within. All these things presented themselves to Harry in only a matter of seconds. 

It had been too much to take. 

The experience was overwhelming and it had come on the heels of the culmination of his full magical power. It was all too much, all at once: the auras, his magic…Severus. 

That was all he could remember. After that, it had turned black and now he was sitting on his couch, holding his broken amulet, and God he had to pee. 

Harry struggled to stand and the room immediately began to spin. 

He bent over and grabbed hold of the mantle, until the swaying stopped. Then he tried again, but this time — slowly. 

He felt terribly lightheaded, but figured he could make it to the loo. And when he walked into his bedroom, there was Sev asleep on a bed that hadn’t been there before. 

Harry approached quietly and stared at the sleeping man. 

A shaft of moonlight crossed over his form, illuminating Severus’s face in a pale opalescent light. His was lying on his side, his face was relaxed and that enticing long black hair of his was draped languidly across the pillow. The light sheet covering Sev had slipped down a bit, exposing his right arm and sinewy back. 

The scars were there on his back, and Harry knew exactly how Sev had received those scars, just as he knew everything about Sev… now. 

This intimacy was extremely alluring, even more so now that Harry knew Sev was also attracted to him. 

What a surprise. 

Harry turned silently and proceeded to the loo and when he’d finished, he continued to hold himself and remembered the feeling of Sev’s cock pressed up against him, that night when they’d been practicing the Hex Reversing Hex, and he wondered if… 

But a sound from the bedroom disrupted his thoughts. It was almost impossible to believe, but the sound he heard was of Sev whimpering. And Harry knew, he knew in that instant what was happening. He recalled the memory of a gray mist, of being frightened and of someone screaming. 

Then, Severus called out and Harry immediately ran into the bedroom. 

Severus was sitting bolt upright in the bed, staring about the room. He was obviously disoriented as to where he was, so Harry went over to him and knelt tentatively beside the bed. 

“It’s all right Sev. It was only a dream.” 

For Severus, to be _caught-out_ in such a weak moment was unacceptable, and he defended himself in the way he’d come to rely upon. 

“I am not in need of a nurse maid, Mr. Potter. Get out, this instant!” 

For Harry, even though the words stung, he knew exactly what Sev was doing— and he wasn’t going to take it. 

“Listen!” Harry snapped back, “I know you just had that nightmare, but you know what? Fuck you! If anyone has a right to be in a bad mood—it’s me. I feel like shit, and God damn it, this is _my_ bedroom!” 

They stared daggers at each other for a moment, then Harry turned abruptly and marched out of the room, staggered across the sitting room then out to the balcony where he promptly leaned against the stone wall and slid to the floor. 

Everything had begun to spin terribly and he thought he might sick-up. “Oh God, I feel sick.” He layed all the way down, tucked his knees to his chest and hoped this horrible feeling would soon pass. 

Back in the bedroom, Severus was still sitting up in the bed, utterly livid over what had just happened. 

_How dare he!_ Severus seethed. And then with a stern determination, he threw back the sheet, stood up and stormed out to the sitting room. 

But Harry wasn’t there. 

So Severus stomped into the kitchen, but Harry wasn’t there either. 

_The coward,_ Severus thought heatedly, then he turned back and looked toward the French doors. 

The fact that Harry knew about the nightmare confirmed to Severus his suspicion that somehow Harry had looked into his soul that night in the Room of Requirement, and that now he knew—everything. But damn him if he thought that Severus was going to let Harry take advantage of him. 

Severus stalked toward the French doors, ready to let loose a verbal tirade upon the imp. At this point he didn’t give a fuck how powerful Harry was. He knew too much, and Severus interpreted that intimacy as a threat. 

He stepped out onto the balcony ready for the confrontation, but all that greeted him was the sight of Harry, curled up and shaking on the stone floor with a puddle of bile in front of him. 

The sight snapped Severus from his self-absorbed campaign and he rushed to Harry’s side. 

“Harry, let me help you.” 

“Get… away,” it was hard for Harry to speak, he was shaking so badly. 

“Please listen Harry, I apologize. I was caught off guard.” 

“I don’t…give a fuck.” Harry started to throw up again, but he had the dry heaves now, as there was nothing in his stomach to come up. 

Severus immediately realized that Harry hadn’t eaten since the dinner they shared the night before, in the little tratoria on the Ponte Vecchio, and he could have cursed himself now for not thinking to try and get Harry to eat a little bit that day. 

Severus wanted to cast a Warming charm—but he couldn’t. He wanted to call the elves for help—but he couldn’t. He couldn’t use _any_ magic near Harry and he looked to the sky and growled in frustration. 

In response, Harry tried to pull away— which he couldn’t. He was pinned between Severus and the wall. 

“Leave…me…alone,” Harry’s voice was now barely audible, and his pathetic plea negated Severus’s tirade. 

Knowing that it was his anger and frustration that had created this horrid situation, Severus determined to get a grip on himself before he made matters worse. 

He pulled the cloth down from off the table and used it to wipe away the vomit, then he bent down and looked Harry right in the face. 

“Please,” Severus implored as he pushed Harry’s damp fringe away from his clammy brow. “You don’t have to forgive me, but please let me help you.” 

Harry opened his eyes and, as best he could, all things considering, shot Severus an angry stare. “Okay but…don’t pull that _shit_ …on me... again.” 

Severus knew what Harry’s demand referred to — no more tirades, no more evil Death Eater personas. Save that ‘shit,’ as Harry had called it, for the students and the other Death Eaters. 

It was all he could do to get Harry over to the bedroom and onto the bed. 

“I’m going to get help,” Severus whispered in Harry’s ear. Then he raced to the portrait and out into the hallway where he found two elves, waiting to serve. 

Severus sent them off to fetch necessities: one to the infirmary for a variety of potions and drafts, the other down to the kitchen for a bowl of warm broth. 

An hour or so later, Harry lay resting comfortably in his bed. The potions had alleviated his symptoms, and he’d finally been able to take some of the broth. And even though the elves had offered, Severus had insisted on cleaning up Harry, himself. 

~~~~~ 

August first dawned bright and sunny, and hot. 

Even though they’d come to an understanding, the two ailing wizards had barely spoken all day. 

Harry was under strict orders, via a note from Madame Pomfrey to STAY IN BED, for at least two days. So he spent this one opening his gifts and cards, and responding to the stack of letters which had arrived. 

Everyone was upset that Dumbledore had cancelled Harry’s birthday celebration, and they were now on a campaign to reschedule the event. 

Without the use of his magic, Harry had to resort to using the wax from a burning candle to seal each of his letters. 

Hedwig had watched all this activity with great interest and hooted when he collected the letters and handed them to her for delivery. 

But the snowy owl backed up in disdain at the wax smudged pile of parchment. 

“Look Hedwig, I know they’re a bit messy, but it’s the best I can do right now.” 

She looked down at the smutched cargo and hooted her disapproval. 

“I can’t use any magic right now, you know that. Please Hedwig,” he implored, “Please deliver these for me.” 

Hedwig loved Harry and would do anything for him, even deliver this embarrassing pile of correspondence. So she jumped over, gave him a peck of disapproval, then clasped the bundle in her talons and flew out of the bedroom. 

~~~~~ 

A white blur shooting past him caught Severus’s attention and he looked up to see Hedwig flying off with a bundle of letters in her grasp. 

He sighed, glanced over to the open French doors and debated whether or not to go in and talk to Harry. 

He’d been avoiding Harry all day, preoccupying himself with preparing lesson plans and organizing his research notes regarding the new visum perfisio potion he was developing. 

Avoidance was not a concept Severus associated with himself, but neither was having heart-to-heart talks. 

Accepting the inevitable, he tossed down his quill then made his way to the bedroom, stopping in the doorway. “We need to talk.” 

Harry glanced up from the copy of Quidditch Weekly that Ron had sent him, “I know.” He set down the magazine and felt his trepidation grow as Severus placed a chair next to the bed and took a seat. 

Severus rested his elbows on the arms of the chair and laced his fingers together in front of him, wondering where to begin, but Harry beat him to it. 

“It broke,” Harry said simply as he looked over to Severus and lifted up the amulet. 

“Yes, I saw that.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“So am I,” Severus responded with regret in his voice. “They are very rare. I know of no others.” 

Harry sank his head into the pillow as he fingered the broken amulet. 

In the pregnant silence that ensued, Severus returned to his dilemma of how to start this unavoidable conversation. And even though he felt as though he were about to step off the edge of a cliff, he knew there was no choice but to confront the inevitable. 

“How is it you know about my nightmare?” 

Harry swallowed uncomfortably, “You mean…you don’t know?” 

“I have an idea, but I am…uncertain.” With great determination, Severus lifted his gaze to look directly at Harry, whom was obviously just as uncomfortable with this subject as Severus was. 

“Please tell me,” he pressed. 

Harry crossed his arms over his bare chest. “I’m not sure how to describe it,” he paused and shrugged his shoulders, “but the other night, right after my…” 

“Transition.”

“Yeah, transition. Well, when I looked at you, I could see…everything.”

“What do you mean… ‘everything'?” 

“Everything about,” he stopped and chanced a glance at Severus but immediately looked back down toward the sheet, “everything about you.” 

Harry’s statement confirmed Severus’s suspicions and his worst fear. He raised his chin and turned away. Arguably, it was a feeble defense, but it was the best Severus could come up with right at that moment. 

“I don’t believe you.” 

Harry remained silent. 

Severus snapped his head back to look at Harry. “Prove it.” 

Harry pushed back into his pillow at the bitter words. “Please don’t ask that.” 

“I demand you prove yourself!” 

Harry closed his eyes and said softly, “I know how you got those scars.” 

Severus stiffened. “No you don’t.” 

Harry opened his eyes and they were full of sadness for Sev, “You’re father did that to you…when you were a little boy.” Then he looked off, recalling the memory in his mind’s eye, “It was winter time and you were cold. He came into your room and…” 

Severus stood up so suddenly that the chair he’d been sitting in fell backwards onto the floor. 

“This is intolerable!” he shouted. 

“Why?” Harry leveled back even though his heart was pounding with fear from Severus’s tirade, “Because we’re on even ground now?” 

“How dare you,” Severus’s words hissed with his ire. 

“It was the same for me, and you know it, goddamnit!” Harry continued and he got up on his knees, but he immediately felt lightheaded so he sat back down and continued, “All those Occlumency lessons, you saw how I lived. And you’ve known all my secrets now for years. Why is this different? I’ll tell you why…” 

Harry stopped his retort as Severus sagged uncharacteristically and took hold of the vanity. 

“How much do you know, Harry?” 

Even though the question was vague, Harry knew exactly what Sev was asking. 

He didn’t dare try to get up again, so he scooted to the foot of the bed and reached out toward Severus. “I know how you feel.” 

Severus stepped toward the door, away from Harry’s outstretched hand, and leaned against the door jamb. 

He said not a word. 

“I feel the same about you, Sev.” 

“Don’t make it worse by lying, Harry. If you did, don’t you think I would know?” 

“You mean from the Occlumency lessons?” 

“Of _course_ that’s what I mean.” 

“But that was so long ago. Things have changed…I’ve changed.” 

Severus pulled himself up and, determined to put on a brave front, turned to face Harry. 

“Listen to me,” he snarled, “I don’t need your pity, and I don’t need your lies.” 

The last time Harry had an Occlumency lesson, he was seeing Anthony, he was completely in love and he thought of Severus as—Snape. But things were so different now, only Severus didn’t know it. 

“But I’m _not_ lying! If you don’t believe me, then use Occlumency,” he implored. “You’ll know that what I’m saying is the truth.” 

Severus wanted to turn away, he wanted to leave the room and get away from all this— honesty. 

But he couldn’t. 

He couldn’t turn away, any more than could he look away. And it didn’t matter that he could very easily drown in those pools of green, the situation was moot. 

“Harry, it doesn’t matter how you feel about me. It doesn’t matter how I feel about you.” Severus shook his head slightly and the light danced in flecks of blue as it reflected off his black hair, “It would never work out.” 

“Why not?” 

“I’m much older than you.” 

“I’ve reached majority.” 

“I’m your teacher.” 

“Only for one more year.” 

“Harry,” his voice was more pleading now. 

They looked into each other’s eyes for a long time. And to Harry, it was as if he were revisiting that which he’d seen two nights earlier: that hidden gentle side of Severus, the side he never allowed anyone to see. 

For Severus, this was the first time in his life that he’d ever gazed upon someone in this way, and he didn’t believe that it could be real. 

How Harry managed it, he didn’t know, but he crossed over to where Severus stood, raised his hand and gently touched Severus’s cheek. Then he ghosted his fingers over to the slightly too thin lips and just as he had done the other night in the Room of Requirement, Harry drifted his hand down and he pressed it flat against Severus’s heart. 

Severus drew in a breath and closed his eyes. It was as if Harry’s touch penetrated to his very core. But no sooner did Severus revel in these feelings, than did he suddenly take hold of Harry’s hand, pulled it away from his chest and sat him back down upon the bed. 

“Stop this, Harry. It’s not real.” 

“How can you say that?” 

“What you are experiencing is a teenage infatuation, nothing more.” 

“That’s not true,” Harry pleaded. 

“We must forget this ever occurred. Do you understand?” Severus was adamant. “This never happened!” 

Then he abruptly let go and stormed out of the bedroom, leaving Harry shocked and sitting isolated on his bed. He dropped to the sheets in exasperation, for he understood exactly why Severus had responded the way he did; because Severus could never believe that anyone, especially Harry, would love him that way. 

Harry grasped the broken amulet and held it to his heart. “Oh Sev.” 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's notes:  
Latin translation of visum perfisio: vision perfect


	24. Wands and Roses

  
Author's notes: Sev and Harry cross a hurdle, a new bad guy comes to town, the Order makes some progress and we finally figure out what one of those mysterious delicate silver instruments does.  
Latin translations:  
permetior: to measure  
ostendo sum: show to be  
A million gazillion thanks to Steppenwolf for her fabulous editing.  
I just realized that I am posting this on Adam Lambert's 28th birthday. Happy B-Day glamboy! You are the fierce glitter to my humble glitz.  
All rights belong to JKR and the gang.  
Enjoy  


* * *

24\. Wine and Roses 

 

On the crest of a foothill bordering the Glenballyeamon, a delicate silver instrument circled methodically around the perimeter of an imposing, erstwhile mansion. 

From their vantage spot aside a nearby knoll, hidden in a thicket of Birch trees, Remus and Tonks anxiously watched the progress of the small sphere as it executed its precise passes. 

“How much longer is that thing gonna take?” Her voice was breathy with trepidation. 

“It all depends on the complexity of those wards,” Remus whispered back as he kept his keen eyes trained on the far corner of the massive edifice, waiting for the small object to appear back into view. 

“I can’t believe there’s no proximity detectors.” 

“I wouldn’t speak too soon, for all we know…” Remus stopped mid-sentence, “Wait a minute — here it comes!” 

“Thank Merlin,” she parted a couple of branches, trying to get a better look. “Come on baby, hurry up.” 

Flashes of wand fire erupted suddenly from ground level. 

“Damn it!” Remus turned and grabbed Tonk’s shoulder. “You wait here for the permetiorscope; I’ll try to draw their fire.” 

“Remus No!” She snapped back, “it’s too dangerous!” 

“Give me a signal as soon as you’ve Port-keyed the scope back to Dumbledore, then Apparate to the Inn. I’ll join you there.” 

He was off in a flash and Tonks turned back to watch the round orb float towards her at a blasé pace, far too slowly, considering that any moment one of those Death Eaters might spot Dumbledore’s contraption and blast it out of existence. 

An intense volley of wand fire flashed off to her left and Tonks heard someone cry out in pain. Moments later, the dawdling device finally reached the tight clump of trees. She shoved it unceremoniously into a smooth suede pouch then into the awaiting shoebox Portkey and tapped it with her wand. As soon as it disappeared, she cast her Patronus in the direction of the fighting, and then Apparated back to the Inn. 

~~~~~ 

“Doubled?” The word echoing around the table was accompanied by wide eyes and open mouths. 

“Yes, doubled,” Dumbledore confirmed. “But I assure you…” 

“Should the boy be allowed to remain a student at this institution?” queried Solomon Priestly, the new Defense instructor. He had only arrived at Hogwarts two days previous and his stern dispassionate attitude had quickly evoked a chilly reception from the other professors. 

At this comment, Severus, who had been sitting poker faced throughout the seemingly unending staff meeting, slid a cold, black glare toward the unwelcome instructor. 

“As I was about to say Solomon,” Albus determinately kept his voice light, “Filius, Minerva and I have worked diligently with Harry over the past two weeks. I assure you, he is quite capable in gauging the strength of his spell casting. He has truly been quite amazing, I must say. 

“How so, Albus?” Arora Sinistra asked, genuinely curious to understand Harry’s newfound ability. 

“Yes, do enlighten us,” Professor Priestly added with sarcasm ringing in his voice. 

Dumbledore went on to explain that since Harry’s transition into his full power, his awareness of the interaction between objects and magic exceeded explanation or even comprehension. 

Even that wasn’t enough for the dubious newcomer. “Are you referring to _all_ areas of magic?” 

Severus seethed. 

“Yes Solomon,” chimed in Minerva. “I’ve taught Transfiguration to Harry for six years. It had always been a struggle for him. But now — he excels at it!” 

“It’s the same thing with Charms!” Filius added enthusiastically.” Harry is a natural. Well, at least _now_ he is.” 

“And of course, in Offensive and Defensive magic, which has always been his forte.” Dumbledore’s tone of voice was finite, bringing a close to this line of conversation. Then he drew a breath and leaned forward elegantly. “And while we are on the subject of Harry…In light of all he has accomplished this past year and indeed, his entire time here at Hogwarts, I would like to nominate him for the position of Head Boy.” 

This was unexpected news and the reaction it inspired in Severus caught the normally stoic man off-guard, with a sense of pride and a warm feeling in his heart. He reached for his glass and took a sip of water, trying in vain to quell the annoying emotions. 

“Oh Albus, that’s a wonderful idea!” Minerva’s response echoed around the table as most of the attending professors agreed. 

“Then, may I see a show of hands? All those in favor?” 

Everyone in attendance raised their hands, all but one. 

~~~~~ 

“You were very quiet today Severus.” Dumbledore’s voice echoed through the Floo as the two wizards stepped into his office. 

“Perhaps.” 

“Cup of tea?” offered Albus, but Severus was already en route for the side table supporting the decanter of Scotch. Albus changed his mind, “On second thought, a glass of Scotch sounds perfect.” 

Severus poured two and joined Albus in the window encased alcove. He remained silent as he stared at the sun setting on the distant horizon. 

Albus waited. Severus was preoccupied and had been for some time now. The mere fact that he had even agreed to come to Albus’s office meant that perhaps he was ready to talk. 

Severus toyed with his glass and added subtly, “That was good of you to nominate Harry.” 

“I am very proud of him. He has worked so hard this summer and put forth so much effort, despite everything…” Albus shook his head and added, “I wish there was more I could do for him.” 

His words were greeted with silence; so Albus decided to take matters into his own hands. “What is wrong, Severus? What happened between you and Harry the night of his transition?” 

“What makes you think…?” 

“It was plainly evident, the moment I joined the two of you that something had indeed happened.” 

Severus didn’t answer, but instead gazed out at the last sliver of the sun before it dropped below the horizon. 

“And ever since that night,” Dumbledore pressed, “both you and Harry have been pensive.” 

Severus leaned back against the thick-paned window and raised a hand to his brow, “I don’t know what to do Albus.” 

This was a first, and far more then Albus ever imagined to hear coming from lips of Severus Snape. “What is wrong my boy?” He set down his glass and stepped closer. 

After a sigh and a few moments hesitation, Severus explained what had happened when Harry looked into his eyes immediately following the transition; that somehow he had seen into Severus’s soul and now knew all his memories, all that he felt — everything. Then Severus looked squarely at Albus and his desperation was clearly evident in his ebony eyes. “How can I live with this type of exposure? This…violation.” 

“But how did it happen? Did he use Legilimency?” 

“No. Well, at least not intentionally.” He ran his hand through his hair showing his frustration. “I think that what occurred, happened because I was standing on the fringe of his magic.” 

Dumbledore literally gaped. “What do you mean ‘the fringe of his magic’?” 

Severus and took a fortifying swallow of the Scotch. “During Harry’s transition, an energy field encircled him. I could actually _see_ it. I believe that this light was Harry’s magic radiating from him. 

“Dear Merlin,” Albus whispered in awe. “In all my years, I have never heard of such a thing.” 

“It was foolish of me, but I walked as close as I could, and stood at the edge of his magic.” 

“It’s amazing you weren’t killed.” 

“Yes.” Then Severus peered desperately into Albus's clear blue eyes. “And now he knows _everything about me_.” 

The old wizard was quiet for a long time as he stroked his long beard and pondered what Severus had just told him. “It would appear that some sort of connection was formed between the two of you, but a ‘violation’? Isn’t that a bit harsh?” 

“Perhaps,” he sighed. “All the same, it's terribly compromising. I don't see how I can continue as his Professor.” 

“Harry is a good person, Severus. I have faith in his character; he would never violate your privacy. The only threat would be if Voldemort were to…” 

Severus interrupted, “Harry’s shield against Legilimency is strong Albus, even more so now than it was before. He would have to lose total control of his mind for the Dark Lord to gain access.” 

A flash of light and the sudden arrival of the shoebox on Dumbledore’s desk interrupted their conversation. 

They had been waiting days for the arrival of this Portkey, and knew exactly what it contained. Members of the Order had been working in and around the town of Ballymena ever since the discovery of Neville Longbottom’s postcard. In the three weeks hence, they’d located the mansion and determined that it must be Voldemort’s hide-out. 

"Who was supposed to accompany this?" asked Severus. "Shouldn't Lupin or Tonks..." 

"They're staying in Ballymena to continue surveillance of the area," Dumbledore answered as he strode quickly to his desk and retrieved the permetiorscope from the shoebox. "They'll send word if they need any help." He placed the silver instrument atop a large piece of blank parchment then tapped it with his wand and incanted, “Ostendo sum.” 

Immediately, the permetiorscope started to clink and chime and then began rolling across the parchment leaving in its wake, a trail of umber colored ink which outlined the perimeter of a building via a complex series of Arithmancy notations. 

They had stared at the notations for a minute when Albus commented, “I believe I can decipher these, but it’s going to take time.” 

“Perhaps you should find someone to assist you, what with the students arriving on Sunday.” 

Dumbledore nodded. “I’ll see what I can accomplish this weekend. If it proves to be too much, I’ll bring it to Channon.” Then he looked with concern to Severus. “I do sympathize for your situation, but I believe that you can trust in Harry’s judgment to safeguard his knowledge.” 

“It seems I have no choice.” 

Albus looked from his friend then down to the recording. “I had better get started on deciphering these notations.” 

“Very well, I’ll leave you to it.” Severus finished his drink with one swallow then turned to leave. 

“Would you do me a favor on your way down to the dungeon?” 

“Certainly,” 

“I was going to inform Harry about his nomination as Head Boy, but I,” he simply pointed his hand to the recording. “Would you please deliver the news to him?” 

Unfortunately, this request did not fit in with the proclamation Severus had handed Harry just the day before. It had come on the heels of yet another argument and ended with Severus stating that they were to only interact during class periods. 

“Severus, did you hear me” 

How could he tell Albus Dumbledore that he, Severus Snape, was trying to avoid Harry? 

“I could ask Minerva, if this is a problem.” 

“No, I’ll do it. But before I go there’s one more matter I wish to discuss.” 

“Yes?” Albus was now anxious to get started on the recording. 

“Do you think staying with Priestly is wise?” Severus asked. 

“He simply needs to settle in.” 

“I’m serious Albus,” his voice became hard. “He is going to be trouble and besides which...” 

“What?” 

“I don’t like his attitude regarding Harry.” 

“What do you propose I do, Severus? I couldn’t find anyone else and classes start Monday. Now if you wouldn’t mind, I really do need to start working on this recording.” 

Severus’s robes swirled as he turned and exited the room. But just before the door closed, he heard Albus add in a reassuring tone, “Try not to worry about Harry, he is quite capable.” 

~~~~~ 

“Well, well. If it isn’t Severus Snape,” Galatea Merrythought spoke in a sing song voice. She had grown quite fond of Harry over the summer and frankly, she was angry with Severus for having caused the young man so much grief these past three weeks. 

“Galatea,” he responded cautiously. 

“I didn’t expect to see you so soon.” 

“Would you please announce my presence to Harry?” 

“I don’t know if I should.” 

“That _is_ why you are hanging here, Galatea. So please do your job.” 

“My _job_ as you so eloquently phrased, is to _protect_ Harry from harmful intruders.” 

“I am hardly _that_ ,” Severus spat. 

“Really? I believe _that_ describes you superbly.” Galatea Merrythought was not one easily intimidated. “Do you have any idea what you are doing to him?” She continued in a low hissy voice, “do you even care?” 

He knew she was right. He had been unfair to Harry, but it wasn’t intentional. Ever since that night following Harry’s transition, Severus had been on an emotional see-saw. This entire idea of Harry having a romantic interest in him was simply ludicrous. 

It didn’t appear that she would allow him entrance, so he pulled out the trump card. “I am here on Dumbledore’s request. Now please, announce my arrival.” 

“Sorry. He’s not here.” 

“You could have mentioned that earlier.” 

“Yes, I suppose I could have,” she replied sarcastically. 

“What do you want, Professor?” 

Severus whipped around to see Harry standing there with an armful of roses. “I didn’t hear you approach.” 

“My apologies, Sir.” The whole business with ‘Professor’ and ‘Sir’ were intentional barbs, and Severus knew it. 

“Harry, Dumbledore asked me to deliver some news to you.” 

Harry’s track record for ‘news being delivered to him’ generally meant that someone had been killed or injured, and he immediately thought the worse. The hard look disappeared from his face and was replaced with one of intense concern. “Who’s hurt? What’s happened?” 

“Nothing is wrong." He stepped closer but Harry backed up in response. “I bring you good news,” Severus added, but now his voice reflected the dejection he felt from Harry’s action. 

“Why didn’t Dumbledore come himself?” He wasn’t at all that pleased to see Severus, not after their last encounter. 

“Do we have to hold this conversation out in the hallway?” 

_You should just go up to the Headmaster’s office and find out yourself,_ Harry thought to himself. Then he noticed Galatea, waving emphatically from her portrait and mouthing the words: ‘Don’t let him in’. 

Harry rolled his eyes. “Fine Sir,” he huffed then marched past Severus. The portrait of Galatea swung open— but it swung closed a little too abruptly as soon as Severus passed by, hitting him on the behind. 

“So, what’s the good news?” Harry asked, not bothering to sit down. 

“Can we please call a truce? Just long enough for me to deliver the news, after which, if you insist on this petty hostility; I will be happy to oblige you.” Severus was at his rope’s end. 

Harry sighed then walked over, sank onto the couch and tossed the roses onto the table, “No. I really don’t want that.” 

Severus sat down across from him. “I apologize for the other night.” And it suddenly occurred to Severus, that somehow he had become entirely too familiar with this act of apologizing. 

“Yeah well, tell me another one.” 

“Harry listen…” 

“No, you listen!” He sat up and leaned forward, “It’s always the same thing. You begin to let me in, and then you push me away.” The air started to crackle. 

“Please calm down.” 

“Don’t worry; I’m not going to surge. That’s all over with now. So no, I _won’t_ calm down…and don’t try to change the subject.” 

“Fine. I’ll just leave.” 

“You go right ahead, Pro-fes-sor,” he spat out each syllable. 

This time, Harry beat Severus to the grand exit and marched into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. 

Severus remained seated on the couch. He sat there a long time, just thinking. 

He had to admit to the fact that ever since _that_ night, every time he and Harry had spoken, their discussion had ended in an argument. There was no point in denying the truth that all of their arguments were because of him, Severus; because of his stance that, despite his feelings, he simply could not allow someone into his life. And they’d wound up discussing and arguing the point ad nauseam. 

Severus looked to the pile of roses lying thirsty on the table, and the roses made him think of Harry, and how he had been so forthwith regarding his feelings. 

He picked up one of the roses and thought about that time last October, when he had been so injured, and that somehow, Harry had sent a part of himself to protect and comfort Severus in his time of need. 

He thought about lying in the darkened infirmary, remembering how wonderful it had felt to be surrounded by Harry’s love. And here he was now, sitting out here on the couch while Harry sat but a room away—wanting only to love him. 

“I’ve been a fool,” Severus said to himself. He got up, carried the rose over to the door and knocked. 

“Please go away,” Harry’s muffled voice sounded from the other side of the door. 

Severus tried the door and was surprised to find that it wasn’t Warded. He opened it and saw Harry perched on his window sill, staring out at the hot night. 

“Sev, I’m asking you—please go away. I can’t take this anymore.” 

“I seem to find myself continually apologizing to you. It’s become a bad habit, one which I would like to rectify.” 

_Yeah well, good luck,_ Harry thought as he stared determinately out the window and _not_ at Severus, whom was now walking toward him. 

“Is what you said, true?” 

“What, about my feelings?” Harry gave an exasperated sigh. “I’ve told you over and over — go ahead and use Legilimency on me. I won’t put up my shield.” 

But instead of Legilimency, Severus handed Harry the rose. It was Harry’s favorite rose: the Peace rose. 

“Harry, I do believe that you care for me, and we both know how I feel about you.” 

At these words, Harry finally took a hold of the rose Sev was offering and he turned to him. “What are you saying?” 

“What I'm saying, is that it doesn’t matter how we feel about each other, there is nothing we can do about it,” Severus added apologetically. 

“What do you mean, ‘there’s nothing we can do about it’?” Harry words sounded rather desperate. 

“You are a student and I am your teacher.” 

“What the hell does that matter?” 

“It matters to me,” and now Severus’s voice was quite emphatic. “I will _not_ have relations with a student. I simply will not.” 

“But, but…” 

“And I can’t believe that you would wait until you graduate.” 

They stared at each other with those frank words hanging in the still silence of the night. 

“You are beautiful Harry, young and popular. Believe it or not, I do remember what it’s like to be seventeen.” 

“You think I would crawl into bed with the first guy that came along, don’t you.” 

“Seventeen is seventeen.” 

“Then use Legilimency on me. _“Please,”_ he pleaded, “I want you to know how I feel about you.” 

Severus was tempted. For all Harry’s words, he just couldn’t believe that Harry could feel that adamant about him. 

“Please,” Harry whispered again. Then he closed his eyes, leaned in close and tipped his head back slightly, as if he were offering himself to Severus. 

Hesitantly, Severus withdrew his wand and with extreme care he incanted, “Legilimens.” 

Harry had brought to the forefront of his mind, all his thoughts and feelings about Severus: his respect for Sev’s intellect and expertise in military tactics, how he loved that thick straight hair and Sev’s quirky dry sense of humor, his admiration for Sev’s ability at espionage, how sexy he thought Sev looked in that silk Muggle shirt and the numerous erotic dreams he’d had. And Harry also shared how he had thought he could have never loved anyone again, not after what happened to Anthony. But that Severus understood the dangers which existed for Harry and for those in his inner circle. They had both been in the trenches and were both warriors, but even so — they both were of the same mind in that they could also love the simple beauty of a rose. 

Severus gasped in surprise as he lowered his wand and made to step away, but Harry took a hold of Severus’s hands and looked searchingly to him. 

“Please Sev, give this a chance,” he whispered, “give us a chance.” 

Severus stared into Harry’s beautiful emerald eyes and thought how very easily he could simply drown in that verdant gaze. “It will be difficult.” 

“I don’t care.” 

“You might change your mind.” 

“I won’t.” 

Severus pulled Harry to him and held him in his arms. “You are _such_ an insufferable brat.” 

“That’s okay,” Harry tightened his grasp as he relished in the feel of Severus, “'cause you are _such_ a snarky git.” 

 

~~~~~


	25. Sidle Into Seventh Year

  
Author's notes: All rights belong to JKR and the gang. Thanks again to Steppenwolf for her insight and spot on editing.   


* * *

25\. Sidle Into Seventh Year 

 

“Were we really that small?” Harry asked softly as he leaned into the wild bush that was Hermione’s hair. 

“Shhh! You’re supposed to be setting an example,” she retorted while keeping her eyes trained on the approaching group of intimidated eleven year olds. 

Professor McGonagall stopped the crop of first years just outside the doors of the Great Hall. “Attention children,” she turned and spoke in her thick Scottish brogue, “we will be going into the hall momentarily, but first I wish to introduce you to this year’s Head Boy and Head Girl: Mr. Harry Potter and Miss Hermione Granger. 

Sudden intakes of breath echoed round the stone foyer as the small children gaped in wonder at meeting ‘The Boy Who Lived.’ Their expressions were followed by an assortment of whispers: "Wow!", "Can you see his scar?", "Is that really Harry Potter?" 

Harry squirmed at the unwanted attention but managed a pacifying smile and a nod of his head, “Hello.” 

Hermione was a bit more verbose, “Welcome to Hogwarts! You are going to _love_ being a student here and you’ll learn so many wonderful facts regarding magic and history. I remember _my_ first day,” she continued enthusiastically, but McGonagall cleared her throat determinately to interrupt the verbal avalanche. 

Hermione smiled sheepishly at the stern witch then finished up quickly, “If you have any questions, bring them to your prefects. Good luck!” 

McGonagall redirected her attention back to the youngsters, “You will follow me to the front of the hall and wait for you name to be called to receive your house placement. Be on your best behavior and show the student body what fine little witches and wizards you all are. Understood?” 

“Yes Ma’am,” came a resounding chorus of small voices. 

The tartan clad professor led the group of frightened fledglings into the Hall, with Harry and Hermione bringing up the rear. As soon as he entered, Harry looked up to the head table and caught sight of Sev looking right back at him. 

They’d had a long discussion about the importance of being discreet while in public. That was difficult enough, worse was Severus's staunch belief that physical interactions between the two of them would have to wait until Harry graduated. It was agonizing for both, as each one wanted nothing more than to get close to the other — _really_ close to the other. But on the upside, a pleasant side effect of this denial was the continual feelings of excitement and arousal. It was a delicious, agonizing state to be in. 

As the group of first years reached the front of the hall and came to a stop, Harry, who had with his eyes trained on Sev, missed the halt and actually bumped into the back of little Matthew Zunich. 

“Oh, sorry,” he apologized then sidled quickly over to the Gryffindor table and immediately got a teasing elbow in the ribs. 

"Good one Harry," chuckled Ron and Harry rolled his eyes at his own blunder 

The noise in the hall silenced when the sorting began, and as Harry watched each timid youth climb on to the stool and disappear under the hat, he thought back to his own sorting and what a very great distance he’d traveled since that night six years ago. All the events, everything that had happened to himself, his friends…and to those he had loved. 

He shook away the heavy thoughts and instead pondered how the atmosphere in the castle had changed so much in just one day. Earlier it had been quiet and peaceful, now the castle rang with voices and energy from the returning students. That morning he had woken up in his private bed in his private suite, but tonight he would lay down on his old four poster and fall asleep listening to Ron and Seamus snore, Neville mumble and Dean...well, Dean was pretty quiet. 

“I hope they hurry up, I'm starving” grumbled Ron then he pressed his leg against Hermione's, “Hey, did you get a chance to tell Harry?” 

“There wasn’t time,” she whispered back. 

“Tell me what?” whispered Harry as their conversation suddenly took on a stealth like quality. 

“Malfoy, on Friday,” Ron answered enigmatically. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” 

Hermione clarified, “Friday, when we were in Diagon Alley, we saw Draco and his father head down Knockturn Alley.” 

“So? I’ve seen them down there before…at Borgin and Burkes.” 

“That’s where they were headed this time!” Ron added excitedly, but still whispering. 

“I don’t understand why this is such a big deal.” 

“Harry,” Hermione’s voice was low and serious, “it was their _attitude_ that drew our attention. Then..." Hermione looked left and right to make sure no one was listening, "I think that Malfoy was summoned." 

“Draco?” Harry's whispered aghast. 

“Not Draco, you dolt," rectified Ron, "his father." 

"Oh," Harry now looked over to the Slytherin table. Draco would typically be boasting and bragging in full bravado to his cronies, but the blond haired boy seemed oddly silent and tense. 

Harry turned and whispered to Hermione, “What time did this happen?” and got a face full of hair in the process.

"Friday afternoon, around two," she answered. 

Harry rubbed his tickled nose and leaned back on the bench. He'd seen Severus that night and spent all of Saturday with him. _Why would Malfoy be called, but not Sev?_

~~~~~ 

The next morning after breakfast, Harry stood examining his class schedule, which he’d just received from McGonagall. Defense was the first class of the week, both a lecture and a practical session which would fill the entire morning. 

“Damn,” he whispered quietly then looked over to the Slytherin table where Severus was up to his lovely long, alabaster neck of his with students and schedules. Unlike last year, Harry had hoped that potions would be his first class, or double potions or even triple, anything just to be near Sev. 

“Come on Harry,” called Ron. “We’ve got to get going or we’ll be late for Defense.” 

When the Golden Trio entered the third floor classroom, they saw Professor Priestly standing at the front, facing the students as they entered. His arms were folded across his chest. He’d drawn his wand and was holding it pointed toward the ceiling at an angle and on his face he wore a stern expression. 

That greeting set the mood; all the students silently took their seats without preamble. 

Priestly introduced himself and began walking slowly up and down each aisle, still holding his wand, and explained exactly what the students could expect from this seventh year Defense class. 

"There was a great deal of material to be covered in order to prepare for the upcoming N.E.W.T.’s," he stated, and there would be "no time or tolerance for chatter or horsing around." "This is not to be a social hour," he continued and informed the class that they were only allowed to speak when answering a direct question from him, or to ask him a direct question. Additionally, he had charmed the room to identify each student as Gryffindor or Hufflepuff, so that if one of them _did_ speak outside these guidelines, five points would automatically be deducted from his or her house. 

Ron’s cheeks had reddened with ire. The expression on Hermione’s face had gone from exuberant, to a downright glower. The majority of the Gryffindors in the room sat bristling in their seats and the poor Hufflepuffs were simply terrified. 

With all his work over the summer in strategy and intelligence, Harry sat and listened to Priestly’s verbal diatribe with an impartial perspective. Instead of reacting, Harry was analyzing, thinking only that the new professor was using the tactic of intimidation to establish his position of authority. 

“We will begin with the Hex Reversing Hex,” continued Professor Priestly. “I am certain all of you read the note attached to your book list, stating that you were to read the first chapter of your text in order to prepare for this first class.” 

The students weren’t quite certain if Priestly was asking them a question or making a statement, so no one dared take a chance to speak out of turn. 

Priestly took the silence as confirmation, “Fine. Then stand and partner with the student closest to you.” 

Harry immediately looked encouragingly over to Neville, indicating that he would partner with him. But before he could take a step, Priestly had moved to his side. “I am told Mr. Potter, that you are quite accomplished in defensive magic,” his tone nearly dripped with cynicism. 

“I suppose that would be a matter of opinion Sir.” 

Priestly stared momentarily; disappointed that Harry hadn’t taken the bait. “Do you feel confident enough to assist me in demonstrating this Hex?” 

“Yes Sir.” 

The professor narrowed his eyes slightly, as if he were eyeing a fresh kill. “Very well, Mr. Potter, please follow me to the front of the class.” 

Everyone had paired up in record time. When they realized that Harry was now standing at the head of the class facing Priestly for a duel, they looked on with concern. 

“Attention students. Mr. Potter will demonstrate the Hex Reversing Hex. He will attempt to cast a Twitchy Ears Hex upon me; I will in turn deflect the hex downward toward the floor using the Hex Reversing Hex. Pay close attention to my movements. Are there any questions” 

“No Sir,” they answered in unison. 

“Very well.” He turned to face Harry. “You may precede, Mr. Potter.” 

Harry started to raise his hand when Priestly suddenly yelled, “Stop!” 

The students nearly jumped at the sudden outburst. 

“Use your wand Mr. Potter. I will not tolerate show-offs in my class.” 

“I’m not trying to show-off Sir. I just need to cast that hex wandlessly.” 

Priestly actually gasped. “Neither will I tolerate backtalk. Now do as you were told.” 

The students shifted their attention from Priestly to Harry, as if they were watching a tennis match. 

“Respectfully Sir, I can’t…I won’t do it.” 

“Draw your wand,” Priestly spoke deliberately, emphasizing each word, “and cast as you have been instructed or I will assign you detention.” 

Harry stared in disbelief at the thin lipped professor. “Sir, if I could just explain…” 

“Out! Get out of my classroom and report to the infirmary for detention. You are to wash every soiled bedpan there and have the Mediwitch document your work. Do you understand?” 

“You can’t do that,” called out Ron in disbelief, “he’s the Head Boy!” 

“Ron no,” returned Harry. You’ll just loose points for Gryffindor.” Then he added in a softer voice. “It’s all right.” 

“I’m not going to say this again Mr. Potter. Get out — and don’t bother coming back.” 

_What does he mean ‘don’t bother coming back?’_ thought Harry. _Does he mean just today, or did he just kick me out of the class?_ “Sir, what do you…?” 

“Out!” 

Harry was stunned. It took him a moment, but he turned and walked quickly over to fetch his book-bag, then left the classroom post haste without saying another word. 

Madame Pomfrey was checking her supplies and looked up in surprise when Harry walked into her office. “Not again, Harry. It’s only the first day of classes.” 

“Pardon?” he asked in confusion. 

“What’s wrong this time? Are you injured?” She walked over and eyed him. “You’re very pale.” 

“I’m not sick Madame Pomfrey. I’m here to serve my detention.” Harry dropped his schoolbag on the floor. “I’m supposed to clean all the bedpans.” 

“What bedpans?” She pointed toward the doorway leading to the infirmary. “I have no patients.” 

He gave a sigh of relief. “Thank God.” 

“What in the world did you do to warrant a detention?” 

Harry slumped onto a nearby chair and lowered his head onto his cupped hands. “You wouldn’t believe it if I told you.” 

Poppy smiled sympathetically, sat down next to him and took hold of his hand, “Try me.” 

~~~~~ 

“Here you are! We’ve been looking all over for you!” exclaimed Ron and Hermione when they opened the door to the dorm room and saw Harry and Hedwig sitting on his bed. Hermione walked straight over and sat next to him. 

“Are you all right Harry?” 

“I’m okay,” his tone was subdued. “What happened after I left?” 

“That Priestly is a blinking jerk,” proclaimed Ron. “I swear Harry, I don’t know if I can take it!” 

“He takes all the fun out of spell casting,” Hermione said in a downcast voice. 

“Did he kick out anybody else?” 

“Nah, we all did what he told us.” 

“He was very methodical and we all managed to do the hex — even Neville,” she added as an afterthought. 

“So mate…did you do the detention?” Ron cringed at the thought. 

“There weren’t any patients, so no bedpans. Besides, Madame Pomfrey wanted to know what happened…so I told her. Then she took me up to see the Headmaster. 

They waited for him to continue, but Harry simply sat staring at the bedcover as he stroked the top of Hedwig’s head. 

“Go on, tell us what happened,” encouraged Hermione. 

“Do you know,” asked Harry, “if in the history of Hogwarts, has there ever been a Head Boy that received detention?” 

Hermione furrowed her brow and thought a moment. “I don’t think so. At least I don’t recall ever reading of such an incident.” 

“Great,” mumbled Harry. “It’s bad enough that I’m the ‘Boy Who Lived,’ now I’m also the first Head Boy to ever receive detention.” 

“Come on mate…worse things could happen.” 

“Such as?” 

Ron pursed his lips and thought a moment, “I know,” he stated in triumph, “Malfoy could catch the Snitch instead of you.” 

Harry chuckled…a bit. 

“Why wouldn’t you cast that spell with your wand?” Hermione redirected. 

He looked to Hedwig and rubbed his thumb along the top of her head. She liked it when Harry did that and hooted softly in appreciation. “If I had cast that easy hex with my wand…the professor would have wound up in St. Mungos for months.” 

“What are you saying?” Hermione asked with some unease. 

“You know about my magic level now that I’ve come of age.” 

“Yeah,” answered Ron, “but what does that have to do with…” 

“I know.” Hermione interrupted as she suddenly realized. “Your spell casting is too strong now to use a wand, right?” 

Harry nodded with embarrassment. “It depends on the spell and what I want to accomplish, but as far as classroom work—yeah, I have to stick with just wandless casting. 

“You should be proud of that mate,” Ron stated emphatically. “Don’t pay any attention to that bum Priestly. He’s just a dolt anyway.” 

Hermione quirked a frustrating look to Ron, “What happened with the Headmaster?”

“There’s going to be a meeting tonight.” 

“What about?” she pressed. 

Harry shrugged, “I don’t know. Dumbledore was quiet for a long time after I told him what happened, then he apologized and told me to come back tonight for a meeting.” 

“Apologized?” Ron burst out, “the Headmaster apologized?” 

Harry kept his head down. He was shaken by this awful turn of events. “Why did this have to happen?” He tipped his head back and let it thump against the headboard of his bed. “I really hoped that this year would be…well, normal.” 

“It doesn’t work like that for you mate,” said Ron as if he were stating a proven fact. “But it’ll be okay. The Headmaster will fix it, you’ll see.” 

“Come on,” Hermione tugged lightly on Harry’s hand, “let’s go eat lunch.” 

“I’m not very hungry.” 

“You gotta eat mate. We have Charms _and_ Transfiguration this afternoon.” 

“Well…” 

“Come on Harry, let’s go.” 

~~~~~ 

“Thank you for coming this evening,” Dumbledore addressed the group assembled in his office: Solomon Priestly, Minerva, Filius, Severus and Harry. “I’ve asked you here in response to the events which transpired today.” 

They had already received a recap of the entire Defense class fiasco. 

“Let me start by assuming full responsibility for this morning’s misunderstanding,” stated Albus in a clear voice. 

“Misunderstanding?” Severus asked with raised eyebrows. 

“Yes Severus, a misunderstanding. None of this would have happened if I had taken the time to brief Solomon in regards to Harry’s advanced level of casting.” 

Solomon sat stony faced and made a point of not establishing eye contact with anyone present. He was livid at Dumbledore for his oversight and didn’t appreciate being called out like this. Even worse, he was embarrassed to be sitting in front of Harry now that he realized the young man had forsaken his own pride to assure his professor’s wellbeing. 

Priestly wasn’t the only person feeling livid. Severus angled his head ever so slightly to look at the newcomer. “And are we to assume that he is now fully briefed?” 

“Yes Severus, he is,” assured Dumbledore. 

“So what is it you want of us, Albus?” asked Minerva. 

“Clearly, Harry is beyond the skill level of his fellow classmates. My question is: can you continue teaching him in the classroom environment?” 

The professors all pondered this question, all but Severus. He was sitting next to Harry and turned in his chair to face the tense young man. “Harry, have you given this matter any thought?” he asked softly. 

Just sitting next to Sev had been a relief, and now looking into those dark eyes, Harry managed to release the breath he’d unknowingly been holding. “Yes Sir, I have.” 

“And what might that be?” 

Harry, who had been sitting ramrod straight from nerves, now sat straight with a subtle sense of pride at being treated as an adult. When he finally spoke, he gave extra care to his choice of words, “My additional training has been primarily in offensive and defensive magic.” Then he looked to Minerva. “I still struggle with Transfiguration…” 

“Not now,” she countered. 

“But I still have a lot to learn.” 

She nodded her head, “That you do.” 

“And Charms are always so tricky,” Harry looked over to Professor Flitwick. 

“This is true,” interjected the tiny wizard. “But since your majority, I have seen a marked improvement,” he added encouragingly. 

“Filius, do you think Harry is beyond the level of the other students?” Dumbledore asked pointedly. 

“Not at all,” answered the professor in his high squeaky voice. “You know as well as I do Albus, that Charms are all about subtlety and nuance. I think it is not so much a case of _which_ charms Harry knows, but the level of finesse he uses in casting them.” Flitwick smiled at Harry, “No offense Harry, but there is always room for improvement in that regard." 

“Then it appears the only area at issue is Offensive and Defensive magic,” clarified Dumbledore. 

“Yes Sir,” agreed Harry. 

“Do you have any input with regards to this matter?” Dumbledore asked the silent Defense teacher. 

Priestly cleared his throat and shifted his position, “Frankly, I think that Mr. Potter would be bored if he remained in the class.” 

“Perhaps he could assist you,” offered Minerva. 

Priestly bristled at the suggestion, but before he could voice his opposition, Severus interjected quite emphatically, “Harry has a tremendous calling awaiting him. His time should be devoted to preparing for this undertaking — not wasted as a teacher’s assistant.” 

Severus’s words hung in the air like a beacon, bringing a renewed light upon the dark task that lay ahead for Harry. 

“Very well then,” offered Albus, “I believe any further consideration regarding this matter can be handled between Harry and me. I will brief each of you tomorrow morning regarding my decision. Thank you for coming.” 

They all rose from their chairs and Priestly left the room without speaking to anyone. Filius offered words of encouragement to Harry, and stated clearly that he would be delighted to work with him to further refine his technique. Minerva laid a supportive hand on Harry’s shoulder then whispered softly to him. Whatever she said, it made him smile. 

After the others had left the room, Severus resumed the conversation, “We could continue on as we did this summer.” 

“Your schedule is already full Severus,” Albus pointed out, “but perhaps if we split the duties...” 

Harry and Severus waited for Albus to consider this possibility. 

“I will compare your daily schedule with my own and Harry’s and will attempt to devise a plan.” 

“Thank you Sir,” Harry’s voice was almost a whisper. It had been too long of a day and he felt totally drained. “I’m so sorry this happened.” 

Dumbledore stepped to Harry and placed a hand on each of the young man’s shoulders. “You have no reason to apologize. In fact, I commend you for your courage and conviction to do what was right. We all know what the outcome would have been if you had cast that hex wanded.” 

Harry looked down, “Yes Sir.” 

Albus gave Harry’s shoulders a squeeze and stepped away, “It’s been a busy day and I have schedules to compare, so if you wouldn’t mind gentlemen, I will bid you Good Night.” 

They returned the salutation and exited the office. As soon as the door closed, Severus pulled Harry to him. 

“Priestly is a fool,” Severus nearly spat the words with contempt as he wrapped his arms around the hard young torso. “Sadly, his actions remind me of my previous attitude toward you.” 

“That was a lifetime ago. Don’t think about it,” Harry whispered as he nestled his head into the crook of Sev’s neck. “I missed you." He snuggled even more, inadvertently pushing Severus back against the wall. "Maybe I could get my Invisibility Cloak and come down to your quarters.” 

Severus gently cupped a finger under Harry’s chin, encouraging him to look up. “No Harry,” he said softly then shook his head in confirmation. 

“But I missed you _so much,_ and it’s only been one day. How are we going to make it until the end of the semester?” 

Their whispered voices echoed up and down the deserted spiral staircase. “I warned you that this would be difficult. Are you sure you want…” 

“Yes, I’m sure.” Harry interrupted in an adamant voice, “and don’t ask me that again.” 

They looked at each other in silence. Then Harry reached up to kiss Severus, but he turned his head slightly to just miss Harry’s lips, and instead pressed his cheek against the softer one. 

“No Harry, we can’t. 

Harry let his breath of frustration slide out from between his wanting lips. He loved being close to Sev and he loved the intimacy they shared. And even though his groin was about ready to burst, he knew what he was doing wasn’t fair. Harry loved and respected Sev, and he didn’t want to mess up whatever chance they might have over something as rank as his teenage horniness. 

“I know.” Then he cast an enticing leer upon the beautiful ebony eyes. “You’ll just have to wait until I graduate — but then… _you’re mine._ ” 

“I will happily agree to that, Mr. Potter.” 

 

~~~~~


	26. Broken Open, part 1

  
Author's notes: Sorry for the delay in the posting this chapter.  
Life is throwing some curve balls right now, so please bare with us. I've decided to go ahead and post this chapter, not beta'd and hopefully the beta'd version won't be too long in coming.  
As always, all rights belong to JKR and the gang. But most importantly, I want to send my love and support to Steppenwolf and thank him for all of his help and guidance.  


* * *

26\. Broken Open, part 1

_Broken pieces, break into me._

So imperfectly what you should be.

Lay here, it’s safe here, I’ll let you be broken open

Hide you, confide to you so we can be broken open.*

Voldemort spoke in a soft hiss as he read the document written in Parseltongue. The fragile parchment was one of several literary artifacts he’d found decades ago, tucked away in a small warded room off a dark, dank corner of the Chamber of Secrets.

He treasured these old scribed relics from Salazar Slytherin and had pulled three from their safekeeping in response to the recent threat posed by the Order. 

Voldemort knew it was only a matter of time before Dumbledore, or someone else in his band of do gooders, managed to decipher the wards surrounding his manor and he had no intention of waiting around for the showdown. 

No, he planned to abandon his home and move his operations — but where? 

Tom recalled having read of a fortress, ancient as time itself and long ago forgotten. He’d come across its mention while scanning through the then recently discovered artifacts. At the time, the existence of this fortress had been merely a fact of interest, something he might someday investigate. But recent developments had spurred his renewed interest for now it was imperative that he find the correct document, after which he would depart post haste to go and search for this well hidden Fastness. 

His slit like eyelids widened around his intense red gaze as he finally came across the correct passage of Parseltongue. He then carefully set aside the document and began comparing the description to that of the corresponding coordinates portrayed upon the large map he’d spread out across his heavy mahogany desk. The two appeared to coincide. He smiled slyly and released a stifled sigh through his narrow nares. But there was no time to gloat on his success; he would have to leave immediately, despite the fact that operations were underway on that forsaken rock in the North Sea. 

“My Lord,” Pettigrew called timidly from his bowed position in the doorway. 

“You may speak.” 

“My Lord, we have received communication from Malfoy.” 

“Continue.” 

“He reports that all the captives have survived and that they are making their way southward along the chain of safe holds.” 

“How far have they progressed?” 

“To the third shack, per his report.” 

“And what of their condition?” 

“Malfoy reports that the majority of survivors are experiencing assorted affects from their imprisonment; he is asking for Snape.” 

Voldemort considered the news. “Send word for them to hold their position. They are not to continue here as previously planned, but instead they are to use the three southern most stations to house the survivors until I send for them.” 

“Yes, my Lord.” 

“When you have completed that task, you will then proceed to shrink and pack all of my furnishings and belongings.” 

Pettigrew barely hid his shock at this pronouncement, “Of course My Lord, as you wish.” He managed to dip his bow even lower and then backed out of the room. 

Voldemort stood slowly and rolled up the left sleeve of his robe. He was thrilled by the intensity of all that was occurring simultaneously: the apparent successful attack on Azkaban, the escape of his captured Death Eaters, the Order’s looming threat upon his manor and his very own delicious thwart against their endeavors in discovering the whereabouts of the Fastness. 

He grew hard with self satisfaction as he pulled out his wand and pressed its tip to his Dark Mark, after which he took the piece of hard wood and rubbed it up and down that of his own. “Perhaps a bit of indulgence before I depart might be in order,” and he smiled with anticipation at the thought of Severus’s alabaster ass. 

~~~~~ 

Severus stared at the lifting darkness in his bedroom as he stroked himself to a truly dismal completion. The satisfaction from his orgasm was minimal at best, but it was either jack off alone…again, or walk into seventh year potions with a hard on. 

He’d lain awake for hours, thinking about the other night when he and Harry stood alone on the spiral staircase; the way Harry’s soft pink lips felt upon his cheek, how his slight sculptured torso fit perfectly in Severus’s arms and how he had swum in a heady sensation when that young length had wedged up tightly against his own. 

Severus sighed as he recalled Harry’s tempting voice echo in his mind, _How are we going to make it all semester?_

“I don’t know Harry,” he whispered softly, “I don’t know.” 

Giving up on any further sleep, Severus threw back the covers, banished away the mess and made to prepare for this day’s classes. He decided to skip breakfast in the Great Hall that morning, skip the noise, skip the temptation to watch Harry at Gryffindor table and his physical response which would no doubt ensue. 

A long hot shower, a strong cup of Ceylon tea and an hour or so in his lab for some peaceful, private brewing sounded infinitely more appealing. Brewing always settled him when things got to be too much. 

Severus stepped towards the loo, but before he could even cast a Lumos, the Mark on his arm burned fiercely and he nearly doubled over in pain. from the severity of the unexpected summons. 

This was unusual to say the least, to be summoned on a school day morning. And from the severity of the summons, he knew he’d best respond immediately. There wouldn’t be time for a shower or proper attire; the best he could manage would be to throw a robe over his naked body and depart.   
~~~~~ 

The Dark Lord’s intense summons brought Severus to an unexpected destination. Not the foyer as was customary, but directly to the Dark Lord’s study. 

“Ah Severus, you’re promptness delights me.” 

He dropped to his knees, “My Lord, how may I be of service.” 

Voldemort smiled at the choice of words. “I am afraid your students will have to do without you for a day or two,” he spoke coyly as he strode slowly toward his potions master. 

“My Lord?” 

“Ah Severus,” he sighed. “You must realize how highly I value your skills with potions; rarely do I send you into the field. But that is exactly what I am requiring of you this morning.”

Severus waited patiently for his master to get to the point.

“You will be pleased know that your Death Eaters who were captured the summer before last, have now been freed from that bastille, Azkaban.” He continued his stroll across the study past Severus’s position on the floor, “they are currently taking refuge at a number of safe keepings…” He paused, “I suppose _shacks_ would be a better choice of word. None the less, your services have been requested.” 

Severus Occluded his shock at this news, “No doubt, there were injuries…” 

“Something of that order,” Voldemort began to prepare himself as he walked up from behind.

“Of course My Lord, I shall leave at once.” 

“Not so fast, dear Severus.” 

Voldemort reached out with one of his boney white fingers and pulled away the lace which had held Severus’s long thick hair, allowing the strands to splay across his back in a sheet of shining black. 

“Before you leave, I wish to spend a moment or two with you.” 

The words caused Severus’s heart to skip a beat at what was obviously about to take place. It wouldn’t be the first time the Dark Lord had claimed this service from him, but it had been years, and during that time Severus had managed to safely bury the horrible rawness from the earlier rapes, into that locked box deep inside his soul. 

The pristine wanting he shared with Harry blew away as a vapor in the wind. He closed his mind and closed his heart when his master lifted his robe and whispered in his ear, “Put your hands on the floor.”

~~~~~ 

“Does Snape think we don’t have anything better to do then sit here and wait for him to show up?” spouted off Ron indignantly. 

It was twenty minutes past the hour and the students in seventh year potions were growing restless, all except for three. 

As he had been this entire first week of school, Draco was oddly quiet and withdrawn. He had known about the planned attack on Azkaban, knew that his father was in charge of its operation and that he would be gone for days if not weeks. 

They’d argued about it, and since his summons nearly a week ago, Draco had worried nonstop about his father’s well being. 

Snape’s absence this morning merely confirmed the fact that it had happened — or that it was happening. Perhaps the later was the case since there had been no mention in that morning’s Daily Prophet. 

On the other side of the room sat two other quiet students. 

During breakfast that morning, halfway through his meal, Harry was overtaken by — something. He couldn’t put a name to it. He wasn’t sick per say, but he definitely didn’t feel good. 

On top of that now was the fact that Sev hadn’t turned up to class. He hadn’t been at breakfast either, but at the time Harry hadn’t given it a moment’s thought, as Severus quite of skived off breakfast in the Great Hall. 

Harry knew in his heart that something had happened to Severus, and his worry added to this awful feeling was now starting to make him feel positively ill. 

“Maybe he overslept?” called out one of the students. 

“Did anyone check his office?” asked Zabini. 

D’ya think if he were in there he’d a come in here by now, ya dolt?” countered Ron. 

“Listen Weazlebeak, if you want a fight we’ll be happy to oblige.” 

“Oh yeah? You and who else?” leveled the redhead. “Malfoy over there?” he said jokingly, “or maybe you were thinking of Parkinson.” 

Pansy was about ready to walk over and let Ron have it when Argus Filch marched into the room. 

“Quiet down, quiet down,” he ordered as he advanced to the front of the class. 

“Professor Snape is sick, so the Headmaster wants you all to use this class as a study period.” 

The students responded with a resounding moan of disapproval. 

“And I’m tah stay here n’ keep an eye on all of ya.” He pressed his thin lips together and peered around the room, relishing in this snippet of authority. 

“Now open yer books and shut yer mouths. I don’t want tah hear a peep outta ya.” 

The moans settled down as the students unwillingly pulled out their books and began to read — or at least they pretended to. 

Ron decided to take this opportunity to work on his Quidditch playbook, while several students simply began passing notes back and forth. 

Hermione looked to Harry’s pallid face. 

“Perhaps you should go see Madame Pomfrey.” 

“For the tenth time Mione…I’m not sick!” he whispered back adamantly. “It’s probably just that banger I had,” he shrugged his shoulders. 

“Yeah right,” she huffed as she pulled out her book and tried to read. Although they hadn’t talked, she had noticed the way Harry was always looking at Snape and vice versa, and though Snape was better at wearing a mask of indifference than was Harry, the expression in his eyes had occasionally given him away. 

She knew damn well something going on between the two of them, just as she knew damn well that Snape would never not turn up to class just for being ‘under the weather’. 

Something was wrong, and Harry’s unease was confirmation of both her suspicions. 

~~~~~ 

It was Friday night, Severus was still missing and the awful feeling that had hit Harry so suddenly the previous morning had plagued him incessantly now for two days. He could barely concentrate enough to do his schoolwork, he’d laid awake most of the night worrying and had barely eaten a thing. 

He finally broke down and went to see Madame Pomfrey late that afternoon. She ran her tests but couldn’t find a physical cause for his condition. 

“Perhaps you should stay here over the weekend Harry,” She had suggested. “I could monitor you and give you something to help you sleep.” 

He had been sitting on the edge of a bed, but stood up immediately. “Oh please no, Madame Pomfrey,” he pleaded. “Can’t you just give me the vial of whatever it is? I promise I’ll go back to the tower and rest.” 

“Well,” she wavered then looked to Ron and Hermione who had come to collect their friend when classes had ended. “Only if you two promise to keep an eye on him.” 

“We will!” assured Ron. Their first Quidditch meeting of the season was scheduled for that evening, and he didn’t want Harry to miss it. 

“Wait here while I retrieve the potions.” 

When the Mediwitch returned, she gave Harry something to settle his stomach so that he could at least eat dinner. Then she handed him another vial. “Pay attention now Mr. Potter, this is a combination of Draught of Peace and Dreamless Sleep. Take it ONLY when you’ve gotten into bed. It’s very potent and I don’t want you passing out and hurting yourself. Understood?” 

“Yes Ma’am.” 

~~~~~ 

“Explain to me again that Quaffle Round-About Throw?” asked Jimmy Peakes, one of this year’s new Beaters. 

“Oh, come on Jimmy; haven’t you read the playbook? It’s right there on page…” Ron turned to Harry, “Do you remember what page it’s on?” 

Harry, who had been sitting throughout the meeting staring fixedly at the wall in front of him, merely shook his head. 

“Hand me my playbook” Ron ordered Katie then turned in surprise when Hermione stepped up to the group congregated in the far corner of the common room. “What are you doing Mione? This is for team members only.” 

“You go right ahead with your 'team members only' discussion,” she leveled back. “Harry and I need to do our rounds.” 

“But, he’s our Seeker!” Ron retorted. “Besides, he’s supposed to take it easy.” 

“Listen Ron,” Harry interjected, “I think I’m going to call it a night. We’re almost finished anyway, right?” 

“Well…” 

“Come on Harry, it’s late and I want to get to bed before midnight.” She helped him out of the chair and held onto his arm as they exited the common room. 

They slowly worked their way along the seventh floor. When they turned down the remote short hallway at the east end (a favorite make-out spot), she whispered a Muffliato. “It sure is odd about Professor Snape.” 

“Yeah.” 

She glanced sideways at Harry’s tense face. 

“I’m actually… a little worried about him,” she pressed hoping he’d take the bait then tell her what was going on between him and Snape. 

“Me too.” 

So much for bait. She grabbed hold of his arm and turned him to face her. “Listen Harry, I know this is none of my business…but it’s obvious, at least to me, that something is going on between you and Professor Snape.” 

Her words took him off guard. “Wha…that…you’re crazy Mione.” 

“Oh, come on. Don’t you think I know you by now?” You…” Her demeanor shifted suddenly from defiance to one of softness. “You care for him, and he cares for you. It’s obvious the way the two of you look at each other.” 

Harry stared speechlessly at her. Sev would be livid if this got out. “Please don’t say anything, Mione...please.” 

“Of course I’m not going to say anything,” she assured. “But…when did all this happen?” 

“It’s complicated,” he sighed, “please don’t ask me to explain.” Now that Hermione knew and he could let his guard down, his green eyes brightened from his fears. “I’m so worried Mione. Something’s happened to him, I just know it.” 

“Have you spoken to the Headmaster?” 

He nodded and made to cast a Muffliato. 

“I already cast one Harry.” 

“Oh.” He still gave a quick glance left and right. “This is going to come out in the Daily Prophet tomorrow morning.” 

“What is?” 

“There was an attack on Azkaban two nights ago and a bunch of Death Eaters escaped.” 

“What?” 

The Headmaster told me not to say anything, but he thinks that’s why Severus was summoned.” 

“Oh Harry.” 

“Dumbledore said that Severus sent his Patronus to him, early yesterday morning.” 

That’s just about the time you started feeling ill.” 

“Yeah, I managed to figure that one out already. Thanks.” 

“Sorry,” she whined …which didn’t help. “But listen, I know he’ll be okay. I mean, we’re talking about Professor Snape.” 

“He’s not invincible, y’know!” 

“I realize that,” she snapped right back, “but you know as well as I, that he’s smart and experienced at this sort of thing.” 

Even though she was right, her words didn’t bring him much comfort. 

“Harry Potter!” 

Both Harry and Hermione startled at the sudden appearance of Dobby. Then Harry quickly and effortlessly, not to mention wandlessly, ended Hermione’s Muffliato charm. 

“What is it Dobby?” 

“Harry Potter is asking Dobby to report when Professor Snape is returning.” 

“He’s back?” 

“Yes, and Harry Potter must be coming with Dobby quickly!” 

“Why? Is he hurt?” 

Dobby donned a curious expression as he held out Harry’s Invisibility Cloak. “Harry Potter must come quickly,” he repeated. 

Harry turned to Hermione. “You gotta cover for me Mione. Tell Ron I had to go see the Headmaster, or something.” 

“Okay, but won’t you need help?” 

Harry shook his head. “Knowing Sev...” 

She noted the nickname with a mild degree of shock, but didn’t interrupt. 

“If he’s not hurt, then it’s something…private.” Harry worriedly ran his hand through his hair. “No, I'd better go alone. That’s best.” 

He pulled Dobby next to him then swung his cloak to cover them both and they immediately vanished. 

~~~~~ 

“He’s in there?” Harry whispered with surprise as he pointed to Severus private laboratory. 

Dobby nodded. 

“Okay,” he looked up and down the hallway to make sure no one was around, and then took off his cloak. “I’ll take it from here.” 

“Will Harry Potter need help?” Dobby looked up with wide eyes full of concern. 

Harry knelt down, “Do me a favor.” 

“Anything Dobby can be doing for Harry Potter, Dobby is happy to be doing!” he nearly jumped up and down in his stocking clad feet. 

“After everyone’s gone to bed, sneak in and line up the pillows on my bed and then pull the blanket over them, so that it looks like me.” 

Dobby stared questioningly at his favorite wizard, “Dobby is thinking no one will believe that the pillows are Harry Potter.” 

“Close the drapes around my bed closed, but leave them open a crack. They all know Madame Pomfrey gave me something to sleep, and they won’t try to wake me.” 

Dobby started to pull his ear, “Well…all right. Dobby will be doing this for Harry Potter.” 

He patted Dobby on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ll be okay,” he added softly. “And thanks for helping me.” 

Not terribly reassured, Dobby vanished and Harry turned to face the door. He cast one more cautious glance down the hallway, then quietly turned the handle and stepped inside. 

Severus was at the opposite end of the room standing halfway inside a large storage cupboard. 

“Sev?” 

Severus didn’t respond. He didn’t even seem to realize that Harry was there, but instead continued moving around vial after vial — searching for something. 

“Are you okay?” Harry tried again as he walked warily toward his friend until he came to stand beside him and then crooked his neck to see inside the cupboard as Severus continued his frantic search. 

“What are you looking for?” 

“It’s not here,” Severus finally spoke. “It should be here. Right here! I always keep it here.” He spoke in a rushed voice as he repeatedly jabbed his pointed finger at one particular spot on the shelf. 

Severus’s eyes had a strange look about them, his brow was furrowed and he was pallid. When Harry reached out and touched him, he felt Severus trembling. 

“Let me help. What is it you need?” 

Severus staggered back a couple of steps, “There isn’t any,” he dragged his shaking hand down his sweaty cheek. “I remember now. I was going to make more this winter,” he started to pant and his breaths became more and more ragged with each passing second. 

“Make what?” Harry asked desperately. He was scared. He’d never seen Severus or anybody for that fact, act like this. 

Severus leaned against the wall and slid down to a crouched position. “What am I going to do?” he asked as he started to rock his torso forward and backward. “I must prepare the draught.” 

Harry knelt down and grabbed a hold of Severus’s shoulders, trying to stop his rocking. “What draught?” 

“Peace.” He looked up desperately to Harry. “I need peace.” 

Harry’s heart was racing with fear. “Peace? I don’t understand. You need…” Then he gasped with realization. “You’re trying to make the Draught of Peace?” 

Severus tried to get up, “Hellebore. I need to harvest Hellebore for the syrup.” 

“Listen to me Sev, you’re not going anywhere. Something has happened to you, and I’m going to get some help.” He opened his mouth to call for Dobby when Severus let out a blood curdling scream. 

“No!!!!!!!!!!!” 

Harry fell off kilter, not only from shock but from the fact that Severus had now grabbed a hold of his shoulders. 

“No one can see me. I must be strong, always…strong.” His voice started to catch. Then he suddenly pushed Harry to the floor, struggled to his feet and staggered out of the lab. 

Harry was shocked. It took him a moment, but he scrambled to his own feet then took off down the hallway after Severus. 

He found the distraught man wedged into a corner of his sitting room with his hands over his face. 

“How could he do that to her???” he sobbed. “Why did he have to do that to her???” 

Harry stood aghast, staring helplessly at his friend. Then he remembered the vial from Madame Pomfrey and snatched it from his pocket. “Look Sev! I found some!” He took a sniff, not sure if Severus would be able to smell the second potion. “Here, drink this.” 

Severus willingly drank the entire contents then sucked in a breath of shock. “It's not pure. It's not...” The potion hit him like a ton of bricks and he crumpled to the floor before Harry could react. 

“Oh God!” Harry dropped down beside him, “are you okay?” 

Severus wrapped his arms around himself and began his rocking again as he mewled incoherent sounds. 

“Listen Sev, it’ll be okay. I’ll take care of you. Don’t worry.” 

Harry clambered back up and levitated Severus, still rocking and mumbling to himself, to his bedroom and lowered him gently on his bed. 

Severus immediately rolled onto his side and curled up into a fetal position. “The stairs.” 

Harry sat down and laid a blanket over Severus as he continued with his incoherent remarks, but at least now he was relaxed. “She screamed,” his voice sounded thin and feeble. 

Harry was brushing Severus’s damp hair away from his clammy cool brow when those last few words struck him with a cold familiarity. 

_Screaming? Stairs?_ He took hold of Severus’s clenched hand, “Are you talking about your dream? You are, aren’t you.” 

“She died.” The tears rolling down his cheeks began to make a wet spot as they fell upon his pillow. 

Harry could barely take a breath, “Sev, who are you talking about? Who was she?” 

He answered in a whisper as he drifted off, “Her name was Rosa.” 

~~~~~ 

Author’s notes:  
*Chapter title and opening lines taken from Adam Lambert’s beautiful ballad: Broken Open.


	27. Broken Open, part 2

  
Author's notes: Big hugs and thanks to Steppenwolf for fitting me (and chapter 27) in with all he has going on. He's the best! All rights to JKR and the gang. I'm just playing in her fabulous universe.   


* * *

27\. Broken Open, part 2 

 

Neville padded quietly back from the loo trying to put as little of his feet possible on the chilly stone floor. 

He could have worn his warm felt-lined leather slippers; in fact his Gran was adamant that he wear slippers when at home, as the notion of bare feet was simply too provincial, but his slippers had a tendency to _thwat_ as he walked, which would have inevitably woken up Seamus.

He yawned hugely as he closed the bedroom door and then started for his bed, but he decided to stop off and check on Harry. 

The four roommates had held a worried conversation earlier that night when they turned out their lights, over the fact that Harry had not yet returned from his meeting with the Headmaster. 

“Psssssst.” 

He turned and saw Ron, propped up on one elbow, give a short upward nod of his head in the direction of Harry’s bed. 

Neville peered through the slightly parted drapes and saw what he assumed was Harry. 

"He's asleep," mouthed Neville as he turned back to Ron and gave a thumbs-up. 

Satisfied, the red head plopped back down on his bed and breathed a sigh of relief. 

~~~~~ 

“God, it’s cold,” Harry pulled the black cashmere sweater he’d found draped across the back of Sev’s desk chair tightly around him. Despite sitting next to the roaring fire and the warming charm Dumbledore had cast, and the sweater — he was still freezing. 

“Drink this Harry,” Dumbledore pressed the warm cup of tea into the young man’s cold hands then went to sit in the opposite chair and watched with concern as Harry took a few sips. 

“What’s taking her so long?” 

“It’s only been a few minutes,” Dumbledore replied assuredly. 

After Severus had fallen asleep, Harry debated whether or not to get help. He knew it would kill Severus to have anyone see him so…vulnerable, but Harry also knew that Sev and Dumbledore were close friends. And quite frankly, Harry didn’t know what was wrong with Severus or how to deal with it. 

“Can you continue now to relay what happened?” 

Dumbledore’s words barely registered, “What did you say?” 

“You had reached the point where you gave Severus the potion,” Dumbledore tried redirecting the frazzled young wizard. 

“Sorry Sir. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” 

“No doubt this was highly stressful for you, but it is imperative that you relay all you witnessed and heard. It may help us to help Severus." 

"I'll try." Harry pulled the sweater more tightly to him as he tried to regroup, “Um...well, after I gave him the potion, he started talking about that dream he always has.” 

Dumbledore furrowed his brows. “What dream might that be?” 

“I guess _dream_ wouldn’t be right.” Harry tucked his legs up onto the chair, “it’s a nightmare... and it’s scary.” 

“A nightmare?” Severus had never shared this with him. “And you say it reoccurs?” 

“Yeah,” Harry sighed and then began to recite the scenes of Severus’s nightmare. “It’s always the same,” he closed his eyes. “He hears someone screaming. He runs out of his room to see who it is, but there’s all this mist and he gets scared. So he starts calling for his Mum.” 

“Excuse me for interrupting, but you said that he calls for his…Mum?” 

Harry opened his eyes and looked tiredly at Dumbledore, “Sir, in this dream, Sev is just a little boy.” 

Albus felt a chill run through him, “I didn’t realize. Please continue.” 

“Well, like I said…there’s all this screaming and he goes looking for his Mum, but he can’t find her. Pretty soon, he gets to the stairs and then… he wakes up.” 

Albus felt as though he’d missed a step. 

“I think now he knows who it was.” 

“Who it was? Are you referring to person who was screaming?” 

"No Sir, his Mum was the one screaming." He couldn’t hold back the tears that suddenly filled his eyes. “I don’t know who she was, but it was someone named Rosa.” 

“I'm sorry Harry, but you've lost me. Who was _Rosa_?” 

“I think Sev really loved her.” Then he finished in a whisper, “But she fell down the stairs...and died.” 

“Dear Merlin. Why has he never mentioned this to me?” 

“I don’t think even _he_ remembered…not until tonight.” 

“Is there anything you haven’t mentioned that might help us?” 

Harry nodded and discreetly wiped away the tears that had gathered in his eyes. “This isn’t part of his dream…it’s more like a feeling I have.” 

“Please continue.” 

“I don’t think Rosa’s falling down the stairs was an accident: I think someone pushed her. And whoever it was, that person was important to Sev.” The chill that had plagued him all night was getting worse. “He kept asking…‘why did he do it’?” 

Dumbledore crossed his arms closely to his chest. “Oh Severus,” he whispered. 

Harry pressed his fingers to his temples and grimaced slightly. 

“Are you ill?” 

“No…I don’t know. I haven’t been feeling too good.” 

“Yes, Poppy informed me of your visit to the infirmary. Perhaps you should lie down.” 

Harry glanced over to the clock; it was just past midnight. "If I do, will you wake me when she comes out?" 

Dumbledore tipped his head to the side. It wasn't really _quite_ a nod and Harry wasn't really _quite_ certain if the Headmaster had agreed or not, but he wasn't feeling well at all, and so he decided to go ahead and lay down on the couch in the library. 

He must have dosed off, for no sooner had he closed his eyes but that it seemed he suddenly heard hushed voices. Harry quietly got up and tiptoed over to the door and saw that Madame Pomfrey was now sitting in the chair where he'd been sitting earlier. 

“Dehydrated?” asked Albus. 

"Yes," Poppy confirmed," and he is physically drained. His readings were quite alarming, but I’ve taken care of all that and he’s resting now.” She sighed then leaned forward and asked, “What did Harry tell you about the way Severus acted, or anything he may have said?” 

Dumbledore relayed the details of the nightmare to the Mediwitch then she pressed her lips together and nodded to herself, as if she already had already known but simply needed the information for confirmation. 

“What is it Poppy? What do you think has happened to him?” Albus asked worriedly. 

She made a sort of ‘tisc’ sound as she parted her lips to speak, “Based on your report and Severus’s physical condition, I believe that he has suffered an emotional collapse. A nervous breakdown if you will.” 

Harry felt like he’d just been hit by the Whomping Willow. And even though Madame Pomfrey began a clinical explanation that ‘a collapse of this nature could be categorized into varying degrees of severity' and that 'of course an individual can fully recover from such an event,’ her words seemed to sail right past him as though they were made of wind. 

_How could this have happened to Sev?_ wondered Harry. Even though he’d told Hermione that Severus wasn’t invincible, deep down he had placed Sev in just that position, as someone Harry could always depend upon and count on to be strong. 

He found that as he watched Madame Pomfrey speak to Dumbledore, he could no longer hear her voice. An ominous silence seemed to reach up and it wrap itself all around him, covering him in a gray mist — just like the one in Sev’s dream. The last thing Harry remembered before he disappeared into the mist was the sudden jolt as he hit the floor. 

~~~~~ 

Voldemort’s footfalls echoed up and down the cavernous staircase as he ascended each stone step. 

He’d already investigated the lower level where he discovered a magnificent dungeon which was still host to several old apparatus of torture. Delighted over this find, he had begun his trek upward, working his way up the mighty central staircase and stopping off to explore the four separate wings on each level. 

On the third floor he discovered a smaller staircase, narrow and harbored between the west and east wings on the north side of the fortress. Voldemort followed its tantalizing trail to discover two suites of rooms on what turned out to be a secluded forth floor. 

No doubt these suites were living quarters and unlike the rest of the edifice; the finishing work here was quite opulent: gilded ceilings, ornately carved wooden doors and solariums of beveled glass. But best of all was a most provocative hidden narrow hallway which connected the west suite to the one on the east side. 

The words of his wise old friend from Niigata rang in his mind, _All things happen for a reason._

If that annoying Order of the Phoenix hadn’t discovered his manor in Ireland, perhaps he never would have made the effort to discover this magnificent Fastness. But now that he had, he would claim it as his own. After all, only two people on the planet could have read the Parseltongue which identified the hidden location of this Fastness, and of those two individuals, only one was a direct descendent of the great Salazar Slytherin. 

Voldemort walked over to one of the beveled windows and stared down at the raging torrent below, “I claim this Fastness as mine. It shall be my home and the headquarters for my Death Eaters.” He then inhaled a lungful of the stale cold air, drawing a breath of the ancient Fastness into his very being. 

~~~~~ 

“Did you have a good visit?” Dumbledore asked Channon Jackson as he walked into the Headmaster’s office. 

“Yes we did. But for your information, Harry is not in the infirmary, he’s up in the tower.” 

“He is?” Dumbledore’s eyebrow peaked over the rims of his glasses. “I didn’t know Poppy had released him.” 

“Apparently just before I arrived. He’s resting up in his dorm room now; Ron and Hermione are staying with him.” 

“How was he?” 

Channon shook his head, “He’s so pale Albus…and weak. Whatever he had sure took its toll.” 

“Thank goodness we caught it before it before it spread to the other Halfbloods.” 

“And you say that Severus is also ill?” 

Dumbledore nodded. ”We believe it was Severus who was first exposed when he was away from the castle. Then he apparently passed it on to Harry in one of their training sessions.” 

The old wizard turned away and walked toward his desk. He hated lying to Channon, but there was no choice. As it stood only Dumbledore, Poppy, Harry and Severus and Minerva knew the truth regarding the breakdown and the apparent connection between the two wizards. 

Poppy had determined that Harry was experiencing a reflection of Severus’s symptoms. The only possible explanation they found plausible was that some sort of connection had formed the night of Harry’s transformation when his magic enveloped Severus. 

“I want to thank you for taking over this project,” Albus collected the rolled parchment from his desk and handed it to Channon. “As I stated previously, if you could decipher that one remaining sequence we will be able to break the wards surrounding Voldemort's manor. I wish I could continue, but with my upcoming commitments I simply won’t be able to.” 

“Don’t give it another thought Albus. I know that time is of the essence and to be honest, I appreciate the opportunity to help.” 

Channon’s expression turned to one of concern, “Will you please keep me apprised of Harry’s progress?” 

“I’ll arrange for Poppy to send word to you.” Albus smiled and then escorted Channon to the Floo, “However you might consider Owling him yourself.” 

“You’re right,” he shrugged uncomfortably. “This summer slipped by so quickly; I don’t know where the time went.” Channon released a tense sigh. “I did promised him I’d write, but I seemed to have come up short.” 

Dumbledore touched Channon lightly on his shoulder, “Then why not consider this a lesson learned.” 

“I will.” Channon nodded his head as if he had made a decision. “I do value our friendship and I’m going to make more of an effort to keep in contact with him.” 

“I know that Harry looks up to you and I’m certain your efforts would mean a great deal to him.” 

Albus smiled and bid Channon farewell, then watched as the young man Floo’d back to the Ministry. 

~~~~~ 

After Channon departed, Dumbledore went to check on Severus. But no sooner had he stepped from the Floo in Severus’s sitting room, when he heard a tense discussion coming from the bedroom. 

“As usual Poppy you are overreacting. A day of rest and I’ll be fine.” 

“Well if I’m overreacting then you are being foolishly cavalier with regards to your own well being.” 

“What happened was simply a matter of overwork and dehydration,” the tiredness in his voice countered his claim. “Now please stop your touting and leave me to rest. I have classes to teach tomorrow.” 

Poppy was about to hit the roof when Dumbledore strolled into the room. “Ah Severus, I can tell you are feeling better.” 

Severus glanced briefly to the doorway then returned his attention to his latest copy of Potions Compendium Monthly. 

Poppy marched across the room, “See if you can talk some sense into him,” she hissed to Albus as she exited the bedroom. 

The old wizard stood for a moment considering the situation, then he took a seat next to the bed and waited quietly as Severus flipped slowly through the pages of his magazine. 

“Haven’t you anything better to do with your time than sit here and watch me read?” 

Albus remained silent as he bided his time. It worked and eventually Severus tossed the periodical to the foot of the bed. “All right, what is it you want?” 

Dumbledore steepled his fingers and pondered how best to proceed. Severus was in denial of the emotional component of his collapse, and his flat out refusal to see a counselor had left Albus in a difficult position. The entire incident, of course, needed to remain under wraps and so Albus was faced with the decision to either try to help Severus himself and risk doing more harm than good, or do nothing and allow this recent realization to slip from Severus’s conscious mind and recess back to the depths where it had hidden for so many years. 

“Would you answer a question for me?” 

“If I can,” Severus tensed. 

“Who was Rosa?” 

It was a good thing Severus was lying down. His breath caught for a moment and all the color drained from his face. “How do you know about her?” 

Albus looked intensely at his distraught friend, “Do you remember what transpired the other night when you returned to the castle?” 

Severus laced his fingers together and busily began worrying his two thumbs, “Not clearly.” 

“Harry found you. You told him of your realization.” Dumbledore warmed the cup of tea sitting on the nightstand and handed it to Severus. It contained a dose of Draught of Peace, which Poppy had prescribed for Severus to take for the next week or so. 

He had been correct that night in realizing that he needed the draught to counteract the effects of his emotional state. And the fact that he received it so promptly had stopped the process from causing any further damage. 

“Severus?” Albus pressed. 

“She was my nanny,” his voice was soft and he stared blankly at the bedcover. 

“No doubt she was very important to you.” 

“Apparently,” he huffed, “This is all quite disheartening — embarrassing actually.” 

“You mustn’t think that way.” 

Severus shook his head slightly, “The fact that a House Elf has caused me so much turmoil… and now this.” 

Albus leaned forward, “She did care for you when you were but a child Severus; we are all so malleable and sensitive at that stage of life.” 

Severus nodded but remained quiet for a long time. Now that the memory of her death had resurfaced, he had begun to remember other memories. Little things like the way she was always there for him when he needed her, how she would play games with him, sing to him and take care of him when he was sick. 

“And obviously this was something that you needed to address; your reoccurring nightmare speaks to that fact.” 

“I suppose I have Harry to thank for that.” 

Albus winced, “Do not blame him Severus. I asked him for information. We needed to understand the situation in order to help you.” Not wanting the conversation to stray, he readdressed the topic of Rosa. “Harry also mentioned that you kept asking ‘Why did he do that to her?’ 

Severus had been about to take a sip of his tea but stopped— suddenly, then set his cup back down which clinked on the saucer as his hands started to tremble. 

“Let me take that for you.” Albus took the cup and saucer then turned back to Severus who had somehow managed to become even paler. 

“Who did it? Who was _he_?” 

“My father.” Now Severus’s entire being began to tremble. “He and my mother were arguing, as they often did. But this time he began to hit her and she screamed. That was when I awoke.” 

“Rosa was with you?” 

Severus nodded. “She always sat by my bed and sang to me…until I fell asleep.” It took him a moment to continue, “I ran out of my room to see why my mother was screaming. Rosa followed me and when she saw what was happening, she ran over to try to stop him.” 

Severus wrapped his arms around himself, “He grabbed her…he grabbed Rosa,” Severus’s voice hitched, “then he threw her down the stairs.” 

“Oh Severus, I am so sorry.” Albus moved over to sit on the bed and placed his hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “What made you finally remember this?” 

Without revealing being raped, Severus relayed his activities during those two harrowing days. How he had worked feverishly, barely eaten, had gone from one safe hold to the next taking care of the prisoners and all of this with no time to rest. 

Severus suddenly gasped, “Dear Merlin, I completely forgot to report what has happened.” 

“You are referring to the prison break no doubt… and the escaped Death Eaters?” 

Severus nodded and held his hands to either side of his face. “How could I have forgotten this? Why haven’t you mentioned it?” 

“My dear friend, I have had far more important matters on my mind then prison breaks and Death Eater activities.” Albus smiled kindly, “Please try to continue: what happened to spur your repressed memory of Rosa?” 

Severus withdrew slightly from Albus’s kindness, “It happened the second night. I was attending to Dolohov’s wounds when I heard a commotion out in the hallway. I went to investigate then just when I stepped outside the door, I saw Malfoy kick one of the elves down the stairs.” 

Severus stopped and stared out across his bedroom. “I don’t remember anything after that. I don’t even know how I got back to the castle.” 

Albus again offered him the tea, “Please try to finish this. It will help.” 

“Yes, you’re correct.” Severus’s hands were shaking so badly he could barely hold onto the cup, but he finished the tea and lay back against his pillows. “It is difficult…trying to deal with all of this.” 

“Listen to me Severus,” Albus took the now empty cup, “I know of a place; a very peaceful place. It is here on the castle grounds and is protected by a Fidelius Charm. I believe it would be an ideal place for you to recover and if I may, I would like to accompany you.” Dumbledore’s expression spoke of his concern and compassion for his dear, dear friend. “We will have ample time to talk through all that is troubling you.” 

Severus nodded his agreement, then after a few moments he asked very quietly, “I would like to see Harry though, before we leave.” 

“I hope you don’t harbor any ill will toward him for telling me about…” 

“No, it’s not that,” Severus interrupted. “I simply wish to thank him for helping me.” 

It was obvious to Albus that Severus’s excuse was a pretext, but he decided not to press the matter. “Very well then, I’ll make the necessary arrangements.” 

~~~~~ 

Harry stared up at the Snitch as it flew wildly round and round the warded area over his bed. 

After Channon’s visit and hearing all about the efforts in trying to decipher the wards around Voldemort’s manor, Harry had decided to try his hand at creating a ward. 

He'd been lying on his back for nearly two days now, under stern orders from Madame Pomfrey to ‘stay in bed or else.’ Frankly, he didn’t have the energy to do much of anything, but instead of having a good rest, he'd spent most that time worrying about Severus. 

Neville came in and stopped in his tracks at the sight of the frantic Snitch flying around in the confined ball of space. “Cool Harry. How did you do that?” 

“I made a ward,” he replied flatly. Making the ward had at least gotten his mind off Severus for a little while. 

“Wow, I can barely manage a Shield charm, and you’re making wards.” He sighed then moved toward the bed for a closer look. 

Harry noticed that Neville was a tad upset. “What's wrong? You’re not miffed about my ward, are you?” 

“No it’s not that.” Neville sat down on the edge of the bed. “It's girls.” 

“Girls? As in…Luna?” 

“That’s the one,” he glanced up at the flashes of gold above him. 

“Did you two have a row?” 

"No, that's not it." Neville took a deep breath and grit his teeth, “Luna wants to do it.” 

"Neville," Harry gasped slightly with surprise, “that's great!” 

Neville’s worried expression turned frantic. “No it's not! I’ve never… What if she realizes…” 

“Wait a minute, hold on,” Harry sat up straighter. “Listen...why are you getting so worked up? It’s not like she’s a pro or anything.” 

“How do you know?” Neville asked accusingly and Harry leaned backward in response. 

“I’m just guessing. I mean…we’re talking about Luna. Right?” 

“Sorry. I guess I'm just worked up about all of this." 

"Don't worry about it." 

Neville stood up suddenly, "I can’t even think of where to go. If I bring her up here, everyone will know.” He bit his lips then looked to Harry. “Do you know of a good spot?” 

Harry was about to mention the potting shed when they heard a knock at the door. 

“Who is it?” 

“It’s Professor McGonagall. I wish to speak with you Harry.” 

“Shit,” Neville started as Harry released the ward; immediately the Snitch began to fly around the room. 

“Um….just a minute Professor.” He quickly summoned the Snitch and sent it to his trunk. “Okay Professor, come on in.” 

The stern witch opened the door, “Mr. Longbottom, would you please excuse us a moment?” 

“Yes, Ma’am.” Neville nearly sprinted from the room. 

McGonagall waited for the door to close before commencing. “Harry, the Headmaster would like you to report to his office tomorrow morning at ten o’clock. Will you be able to manage, or shall I accompany you?” 

“Why?” Harry immediately suspected the worse. “Has something happened?” 

She explained that the Headmaster would be leaving for a week or so and that she would be in charge while he was gone. “Perhaps as Head Boy, the Headmaster simply wishes to discuss the situation with you.” 

“Did he say anything about Professor Snape? How he’s doing?” 

“I am told he is much better.” She brushed back the few stray hairs that had worked their way loose from her bun. “To be perfectly honest Potter, the Headmaster is accompanying Professor Snape to someplace where he can recuperate.” 

“Accompanying him?” Where are they going?” 

“I'm sorry Mr. Potter, but I’m not at liberty to discuss that with you.” McGonagall gave him that sympathetic laced adamantine look she'd get sometimes, which irked Harry to no end. 

He knew it was a lost cause. “Yes Ma’am,” he acquiesced and then sank down onto his pillow. 

~~~~~ 

The following day, while the majority of students were in class, Harry made his way to the Headmaster’s tower. Even though he had regained quite a bit of his strength, the trek across the seventh floor had left him feeling as though he’d jogged around the lake — twice. 

The spiral staircase seemed especially steep to Harry and he was nearly out of breath by the time he reached the top step. 

"Enter," replied Dumbledore when Harry knocked and he opened the door to the sight of the old wizard standing at the entry to the annex. He smiled at Harry, pointed to the opposite side of the room then exited and closed the door behind him. 

Confused, Harry peered around the door and saw Severus sitting in a squishy chair near the far window; he looked pale and fragile and was wearing that cashmere sweater Harry had worn the night of the breakdown. 

"Sev!" Harry called out and he hurried over, wanting only to wrap his arms around Sev. But as he neared the chair, Severus stiffened and turned slightly away. 

Harry stopped where he was in response to the unexpected rebuff. He stood and stared at Severus who busied himself with looking out the window. 

"Hi Sev," he tried again as he tentatively knelt down beside the chair. 

Severus glanced quickly to Harry but then looked back out the window. "Thank you for coming." 

Harry looked over to see if he was missing something outside, a Thestral flying by perhaps; there wasn’t anything but blue sky. "Um...you're welcome." He didn't know what else to say after the awkward greeting. 

They stayed like that for a few moments, not interacting but only listening to the tick-tock of the mantel clock which seemed rather loud as it echoed in the uncomfortable silence of the room. 

Then Harry noticed Severus tremble slightly as he drew a breath to speak, "I wish to apologize for my actions the other night." 

_What the hell is he talking about?_ Harry reached out and barely touched Sev's forearm. "Sev, what are you talking about? Why are you apologizing?" 

Severus turned toward Harry, but wouldn't look directly at him. "Because my actions were inexcusable." 

Harry gently slid his hand down to take a hold of Severus's hand. "You were sick... that's all." 

Severus looked to their clasped hands but didn't respond. 

"Please Sev." Harry reached up and lightly touched Severus's jaw, trying to get him to turn and look at him. 

And when he did, his expression grew tense as he finally saw Harry's face. “You’re so pale.” 

“Look who’s talking.” 

"They told me that my condition had an affect upon you." He paused as he took in the dark circles under Harry's eyes. "I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t worry about me Sev. I’ll be fine…as long as you are.” 

Harry leaned tentatively forward and when Severus didn't back away, he went ahead and wrapped his arms around the frail man. The he pressed his cheek against Sev’s, “I’ve been so worried. When Madame Pomfrey explained what happened to you, I think I passed out. And now they're telling me that you’re going away.” Harry tightened his hold. “Where are you going?” 

The sound of worry in Harry’s voice tore at Severus’s heart and his precarious condition. He leaned into the strong embrace and felt Harry’s love surround him. Immediately, his experience of being injured on Samhain sprang to his mind. 

“Do you recall last year when the Dark Lord attacked you? 

The sudden change of topic took Harry by surprise. “What? Uh... sure I remember, but what does that…” 

“Something happened that night; I’ve meant to ask you about it for a while now.” 

“Ask me about what?” 

“Do you…” He wasn’t quite sure how to phrase what happened. “Did you come to me?” 

Harry froze. In one sense he knew exactly what Sev was talking about, but at the same time he couldn’t believe it was true. “Are you’re talking about when you got hurt?” 

Harry found Severus’s frail demeanor and voice unsettling. But a frail Severus was better than none at all. And now that he’d finally gotten to Sev and had his arms full of him, the last thing he wanted to do was to let go. So he pulled back only just enough so that he could look into Sev’s dark eyes. “Did that really happen? I thought it was a dream.” 

“Please tell me what you experienced.” 

Harry lifted his hand to Severus' cheek. “I felt you, when you tried to help me Occlude. Then I had that surge and I knew you’d been hurt.” He ghosted his hand down and pressed his palm flat against Severus’s chest, just as he had that night of his transformation. 

“You went away… so I followed you.” 

“Why have you never mentioned this?” 

“I didn’t think it was real," Harry shrugged. "I thought it was a dream.” 

Severus looked down at Harry’s hand as it pressed against him. He remembered the security he had felt when Harry’s love had followed him to his subconscious, and how he had thought later that all he might ever know of that love would be a memory. 

“I felt you.” Severus leaned his forehead against Harry’s. “The first thing I remembered was darkness. It was so dark and I felt lost. Then I felt something wrap itself around me. It made me feel safe.” 

Harry gasped a quiet breath of surprise. 

“I thought I would never feel anything like that again.” 

“Then feel me now.” Harry leaned forward and embraced Severus once again. “I’m right here. I’m holding onto you and I’ll never let go.” Harry turned his head to whisper in Sev’s ear. “Please let me come and take care of you.” 

The thought of Harry’s strength and love was so tempting. And even though he felt terribly scattered, he knew that what he needed just then was exactly the opposite. 

“I want to be with you Harry, but now is not the time. You are also ill. You need to recover, as do I.” 

“But I’m afraid I’ll lose you.” Tears started to fill his eyes. “I need to make sure you’re okay.” 

Severus looked into those emerald eyes, trying to memorize how the light danced across them. “I’ll be fine. Albus is coming with me.” 

Harry was trying his utmost to hold himself together, for Sev’s sake. “Okay, but you gotta promise me you’ll come back. All right? Promise.” 

“I promise.” This emotional discussion had exhausted Severus and he laid his head on Harry’s shoulder. 

Harry tightened his embrace. He wanted to tell Sev that he loved him and that he needed him, but somehow to do that just now didn’t seem fair. So instead he took a big shaky breath, pushed down his need and his tears, then gently ran his hand through that long black hair. 

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine. You just get better, okay?” He spoke assuredly and gave an extra squeeze. “Just remember how this feels. Even though we’ll be apart, I’ll be there with you, and I’ll be waiting here for you when you come back.” 

 

~~~~~~


	28. While You Were Gone

  
Author's notes: Harry struggles to cope during a period of uncertainty. All rights belond to JKR and the gang.  
I want to extend my major humungous, mega gargantuan, warm fuzzy thanks to Steppenwolf for his (once again) fabulous editing and insightful suggestions.  


* * *

28\. While You Were Gone 

 

Harry watched the small pink rose rotate as he rolled its delicate stem back and forth between his thumb and forefinger. 

It had arrived with the Wednesday morning post, folded within a blank sheet of parchment. 

There was no signature or return address. But he knew whom had sent it, for it was one of the things they shared, something only they knew about each other — this affinity for roses. 

“Budge over.” 

Hermione’s voice startled him, and Harry quickly closed the small book he’d been reading, hiding the tiny rose between two of its pages, then nodded toward the opposite side of the library table. 

“Sit over there.” 

She leaned down so as not to be overheard, “No, I want to sit next to you.” 

“Oh for the love of…” He had barely gotten his bag out of the way before she sat down next to him. “Do you mind Hermione? I wanted some privacy.” 

“Harry Potter, you’ve been avoiding us all week: getting up early, coming back to the tower late at night, disappearing between classes.” 

She briefly touched his hand, the one covering the book. “What’s going on? Does it have something to do with Professor Snape?” 

Harry immediately cast a Muffliato, “Be careful! Someone could have heard you!” 

“Just answer my question.” 

“You heard the announcement, same as everyone else. Professor Snape caught some rare kind of flu and has to stay in his quarters.” 

“Oh stop with the Professor business; I know you call him Severus and I don’t buy this flu excuse, not for one second.” She noticed the small, partially hidden book. “And I don’t believe that Dumbledore is at a conference either.” 

Harry made to slide the book into his bag but Hermione quickly Accio'd it into her awaiting hand. “What’s this?” 

“Hey, give that back.” 

She read the title: ‘The Journey From Breakdown To Recovery.’ 

Harry snatched the book and shoved it into his book-bag then turned and glared daggers at Hermione. “Don’t you _ever_ say _anything_ about this to _anyone,_ or I’ll never talk to you again.” 

She hadn’t seen him this worked up since that night in the Shrieking Shack, when he yelled at Sirius. “What’s wrong? What kind of breakdown is the title referring to?” 

“You’re awfully nosey Hermione, y’know that? It’s none of your business!” 

She was taken aback by his harsh words. “I’m sorry! I’m worried about you … that’s all.” She tried to hold his hand but he snatched it away. 

Hermione sat frozen with her hand hovering above where Harry’s had just been. Obviously she had crossed a line — she knew it. But she also knew that he needed a friend. 

“Listen, I said I was sorry. I had no business looking at your book. I apologize.” 

Harry turned away from her. The truth of the matter was he did need a friend; he needed someone to talk to because he was worried sick. 

The only communication he’d received all week was the rose. So finally he had gone to Madame Pomfrey to see if perhaps she could give him an update on Severus’s progress. But she said she couldn’t discuss the situation with him, saying that it was none of his business, something having to do with doctor/patient confidentiality. 

“Hermione … do you know anything about doctor/patient confidentiality?” 

“What does that have to do with …?” 

“Would you for _once_ in your life just _answer_ me and not ask any questions?” 

He had turned back toward her and she could see now that he was trembling. “Oh Harry,” her expression and tone of voice were full of worry. 

He was at the end of his rope, and he sort of just _sank_ where he sat. “Please just tell me what it means.” 

She wanted to give him a big hug, but she knew that Harry would never stand to be fussed over. “Well, doctor/patient confidentiality is the principle which states that an individual or institution cannot reveal data to a third party.” 

Harry stared at her a moment but then looked away, “That’s why she won’t talk to me,” he mumbled to himself, “she thinks I’m just a third party.” 

“Who thinks you’re a third party? What are you talking about?” 

Harry grabbed both of her upper arms in frustration. “I…can’t…tell…you! Can’t you understand that?” 

His actions shocked her and she leaned back defensively, “Fine Harry! You’ve made your point, but whatever is going on here is making you crazy. Look at you! You’re a mess. You have to talk to someone.” 

Hermione was trembling now too, but out of frustration with Harry. He was always doing things like this, putting the welfare of others above his own. 

He started to repeat that he couldn’t talk to anyone, but she cut him off. “There _is_ someone you could talk to Harry, someone that by law could never repeat a word of what you said…to anyone.” 

“Who would that be?” 

Hermione sat tall and finally managed to finally take hold of his hands, “Helena.” 

~~~~~ 

Solomon Priestly stepped from one of the spacious commuter Floos lining the far wall in the Atrium and was immediately surrounded by the chaotic hustle and bustle of the numerous Ministry workers Flooing home after a long day’s work. 

He stretched and inhaled a deep breath of the familiar scents. _Home._

“Solomon old boy, I thought you were up north, teaching.” 

The tall wizard turned in response to the familiar voice. “Ah Merritt, good to see you,” and he wondered for what seemed like the hundredth time what had ever possessed him to think he could survive a year surrounded by students, “I’m only here this evening for a meeting.” 

“What a pity: the place just isn’t the same without you.” 

That comment only ground home the fact that he should have never acquiesced to Dumbledore’s plea to teach. 

“So? How is Hogwarts?” asked the stodgy old wizard. 

A myriad of adjectives sailed through Priestly’s mind, and as much as he would have loved to stand there and bash the entire nightmare he’d been living the past month, he knew that if he didn’t hurry, he’d be late for his meeting. “It’s all right, I suppose. You know, I haven’t been there in decades, but the castle still looks the same. Not much has changed,” he responded despondently. “Listen, I really must get going or I’ll be late.” 

“You’re a better man than I, Solomon.” His coworker waved then toddled off to the Floo. “Don’t be a stranger!” 

Solomon nodded then headed for the annex. He hadn’t gone but thirty feet when another voice called out. 

“Priestly, is that you?” 

Bathed for a moment in his perceived apparent notoriety, Priestly turned and was suddenly taken down a notch by the approach of the auburn haired Eurasian. “Oh, Hello Channon.” 

“What brings you to the Ministry?” 

“I’m here for the meeting,” Solomon clarified. 

“I had a feeling that might be the case. That’s where I’m headed.” 

It was only now that Priestly noted the warded casement clutched in the young Unmentionable’s hand. 

“Is that it?” 

Channon’s only acknowledgement was a smile and one raised eyebrow. “Come on, we’d better hurry or we’ll be late.” 

“I doubt there’s much they could discuss until _you_ arrive.” 

Channon looked down at the parchment he held, “You have a point.” Then he nodded his head in the direction of the annex and the two wizards fell into step as they headed down the length of the Atrium. 

“So how’s the semester going for you?” asked Channon. 

“I suppose all right.” 

“You don’t sound very convincing.” 

“Perhaps,” Solomon left his vague response — hanging. 

Channon tried to fathom how Solomon, or anyone for that matter, couldn’t absolutely love spending time at Hogwarts teaching Defense to all of those children. 

“You’re not enjoying yourself?” he asked incredulously. 

Priestly glanced at the young wizard beside him. For a long while now, he’d been in awe of Channon Jackson — the youngest Unmentionable to be taken into the department in centuries. But the fact that he was indeed _young_ just didn’t sit well with Priestly. 

“I suppose I’m simply not accustomed to spending much time around … children.” 

“Well, at least you get a chance to work with Harry,” Channon added brightly. “It must be a treat for you to work with him in tactics.” 

“Not really.” Solomon slowed his pace, “Actually, I’m not working with Harry.” 

Channon fell suddenly behind and Solomon turned to see the young Unmentionable staring at him wide-eyed. 

“What do you mean?” He held his hands out to his sides. “But you’re his instructor.” 

Priestly released a slow breath through pursed lips, “No, I’m not. Albus and Severus are his instructors.” 

“Why is that … exactly?” 

Priestly lowered his gaze to the floor. “Mr. Potter and I got off to a bad start. I suppose I didn’t handle the situation as well as I could have.” 

“And?” Channon pressed. 

“Albus modified Mr. Potter’s and my teaching arrangement,” Priestly finished with a soft voice. 

“I see.” _Why didn’t Harry mention any of this during my visit?_ Channon wondered. A movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. 

It was Kingsley Shacklebolt standing in the doorway to the conference room waving at them to ‘hurry up.’ 

Channon bit his lips, vacillating between whether or not to interfere. “Solomon, would you mind staying after? I’d like to continue our conversation.” 

All of this went against his very grain. Solomon Priestly did things by the book. Using this method had always worked perfectly for him. It was only these blasted _children,_ and that incident with Potter which didn’t — wouldn’t fit into his ordered approach. 

“Solomon?” 

“I don’t know what good would come of discussing it.” 

“Perhaps you’re right,” Channon placated, “but I’d still appreciate just a few minutes of your time.” 

Solomon glanced over at Shacklebolt whom was waving more insistently now. “Oh all right.” 

~~~~~ 

They entered the small conference room just as Shacklebolt sat down at one end of a large square Birchwood table. Situated to his right was Nymphadora Tonks and John Dawlish; Solomon immediately went to join the two Aurors. 

Across from them sat Remus Lupin, Arthur Weasley and his son Bill. The only seat left was the one on the side opposite Kingsley Shacklebolt. Channon walked over and sat there. 

With everyone situated, Shacklebolt pointed his wand to close the door, then warded it and cast a Muffliato. 

“Thank you all for coming. I first want to extend the Minister’s apologies for not being able to attend this meeting. He is rather engaged with matters regarding the recent escape from Azkaban.” 

He glanced around to all those assembled; no one seemed to mind the absence of the Minister. “Right then, you all know why you are here …” 

“Excuse me Kingsley,” interrupted Arthur, “but where is Dumbledore?” 

“Forgive me for the oversight, Dumbledore was unable to attend this meeting due to a personal commitment, but he does send his regards and his vote of confidence that we will be able to handle matters.” 

The large, black wizard looked at the expectant faces, “Now if there aren’t any other concerns, I’d like to address the matter at hand.” He focused his gaze on Jackson. 

“Jackson? Will you do the honors?” 

Channon cleared his throat, removed the precious parchment from its encasement and then stood to address those assembled. 

Ninety minutes later, all in attendance were fully briefed as to the location and layout of the manor. They had then formulated and settled upon a plan of operations to seize Voldemort’s manor. With the wards now deciphered there was nothing to stop them from mounting a full on attack. 

Shacklebolt would act as Incident Commander and liaison to the Minister. Tonks would head up the Logistics section with Dawlish as back-up and Priestly as tactics advisor. Remus was assigned the post of Operations Leader with Bill heading the Ground Support unit. Arthur gladly took on the job of organizing the Support Branch. 

With leaders now assigned to each division, they simply needed to pick a date. 

“So when can all of you have your troops assembled and in place?” 

A hum filled the room as the Aurors and Order members discussed the logistics involved, then they looked tentatively toward each other from the opposite sides of the table. 

“In two days?” offered Remus. 

The three Aurors nodded their heads. “We can do that.” 

“All right then,” confirmed Shacklebolt, “have your troops assembled at the assigned location in the Glenballyeamon valley, at 0900 hours this Sunday. Agreed?” 

“Agreed,” they all replied. 

~~~~~ 

Harry closed the door and leaned heavily against it as he stared at Helena, whom had already arrived and was sitting in her usual chair. 

She always took the one facing away from the window, something about daylight being unforgivingly revealing. None of that made sense to him, but the sight of her blue eyes and compassionate smile washed over him like a panacea. 

“I fixed you a cup of tea,” she nodded to the side table as she hid her reaction to his appearance, for Harry looked utterly frazzled: pale, with dark circles under his eyes. 

He dropped his book-bag next to the door then walked over and sank heavily into the chair facing the window. 

As Helena waited in silence for Harry to sip some tea and get settled, she wondered what on earth could have possibly happened since she’d last seen him. Whatever it was, it had been traumatic, for he hadn’t looked this bad since the summer when she’d first started working with him. 

As soon as he released a sigh and settled back in his chair, Helena began their conversation. “Hard week?” 

“I guess you could say that.” He placed his elbow on the arm of the chair and rested his forehead on his outstretched fingertips. 

She waited. 

“I don’t know where to start.” 

Helena smiled. “Just pick one Harry.” 

“I knew you were going to say that.” 

Again — she waited. 

“Okay,” he laid his head against the back of the chair. “Scared to death.” 

That was a bit more then she had expected, “All right. So what is it that has you scared to death?” 

“First, I have to ask you something.” He then tensed, as if he were bracing himself to tackle something monumental. “Is what I say to you ...?” He tried again, “Is it true that you can’t say anything about …?” This was proving harder to do then he’d expected. “Have you ever heard about doctor/patient confidentiality?” 

Helena looked at him with surprise. “A time or two … yes.” 

“Hermione told me that you can’t repeat anything I tell you, but I didn’t believe her.” 

Helena straightened her blue robes. “She is partially correct. Anything you tell me in our sessions is confidential, as long as what you reveal does not involve an illegal action. Other than that, I am legally bound not to discuss the content of our conversations with any person or any institution … ever.” 

A team of emotions began to well up, hiding just beneath the surface of his expression, and it seemed to Helena as if Harry was about to shatter. 

“What is wrong Harry?” 

“I’m afraid I’ll lose him,” the desperation he felt saturated his thin and strained voice. 

“Lose who?” 

“I told you about him.” 

Helena thought back as she watched Harry clench his fists. “Is this the person you had the dreams about? The one you spoke of a few months ago?” 

“Yeah, that’s him.” Harry nodded as he bit his lips. All week long, he’d been worrying himself sick over Severus: what might be happening to him, whether he was he getting better, _would_ he get better, would he still be interested in Harry after all that had happened. 

“But, what has happened?” 

“He got sick … and had to go away.” 

That sounded terribly similar to what had happened to Anthony. No wonder Harry was distraught. 

“Was he injured? Was there another attack?” 

“No, nothing like that.” 

“Then what?” 

Harry waved his hand and warded the small room, his ward being ten times the strength of any Muffliato charm. Then he peered cautiously at her with emerald eyes, “You promise you can’t repeat any of this.” 

“Not a word. What you say to me is confidential. I would never … I could never repeat a single word of it.” 

They stared at each other in utter silence. Finally Harry spoke softly, “It’s Severus.” 

Helena sat stock still for a moment as she processed the implications of what Harry had just told her. “Severus? As in … Snape?” 

Harry nodded. 

The room was silent, but for the sound of Helena as she quietly closed her notepad and slipped it into the outside pocket of her valise. 

“All right Harry,” she spoke in a tone of quiet strength, “let’s start at the beginning.” 

~~~~~ 

Remus could almost hear his heart beating inside his chest as he stood just off the perimeter of Voldemort’s manor.

Hidden by a Disillusionment charm, as was everyone in the strike force, he was waiting for the go-ahead signal. And when it finally came, the entire strike force immediately began their campaign against the edifice.

Divided into groups, the Aurors and Order members Apparated simultaneously into various rooms of the manor; nearly three dozen wizards and witches in total infiltrated every corner of the massive building. 

Remus headed the group which Apparated into the drawing room. Standing in a circle with their backs to each other, they had their wands drawn — ready to do battle. 

“What the hell?” he stared dumbfounded.

“What’s going on?” sounded a voice from the foyer.

“Is this a joke or something?” echoed another voice from the second floor hallway.

After about thirty seconds, Remus relaxed his stance and indicated for his team to do likewise. 

Bill Weasley walked through the double doors then stopped and stared at Remus in disbelief. “I think we’re a tad late.”

 

~~~~~


	29. An Elusive Event

  
Author's notes: All rights belong to JKR and the gang. A bazillion thanks go to Steppenwolf. He is the best, smartest, most sincere, wonderful Beta a girl could ever hope for.  
~~~~~SH~~~~~  
  


* * *

29\. An Elusive Event 

 

“Hey Luna! You got any more Chocolate Frogs?” 

Luna’s Spectraspecs slipped down her nose when she turned around, “Sorry Ron … no I don’t. But you can have my two remaining delicious Canary Creams.” 

“That’ll do. Give’m here; I’m starving.” 

Luna, Neville, Ron, Hermione and Harry all stopped and watched Luna fish through her purse as the throng of students filed past them, making its way back up to the castle after having watched the first match of the Quidditch season. It had been a long match that had gone into overtime — and the supper hour, and in which Ravenclaw had defeated Hufflepuff by a slim margin. 

“Ronald, if you eat anymore you won’t have room for dinner." 

As the group waited on Luna, Harry cast a nonchalant glance in Neville’s direction. It had been more than a week since they’d had their conversation regarding you know what, and Harry was curious if any progress had been made. 

Neville finally noticed Harry looking at him with one eyebrow raised questioningly. He waited a moment and then answered the silent question with blushed cheeks and a tiny smile. 

Harry winked. 

Ron got his candy and they continued their trek. 

“What did you think of Cho?” asked Ron. “She must have practiced over the summer 'cause she’s definitely gotten better.” 

Harry shrugged. “I don’t know; her speed’s always been her weak spot … still is if you ask me.” 

Ron shot a sideways glance at his best friend. “So what did Pomfrey say? Can you start practices again?” 

“Yeah, I already told you.” 

“No you didn’t,” Ron retorted. He’d been rather worried over the fact that Harry hadn’t practiced with the team all week and their first match was the following weekend. 

“Well, I thought I did. Sorry.” 

“No worries. I’m just glad you’re better.” 

“Me too,” Harry sighed with relief but for a different reason: he knew that if he was feeling better, than Severus would be as well. 

Argus Filch stood at the top of the front steps and called Harry over, “The Headmaster wants to see you.” 

Harry gasped, “He’s back?” 

“Course he’s back … how else could he ask to see you?” 

Harry stared in surprise. He wanted to ask if Severus had also returned but knew he couldn’t. 

“Get a move on! He’s a waitin for ya.” 

Harry turned to his friends. “I’ll catch up with you later.” 

Hermione quickly touched him lightly on the shoulder before he took off at a dead run. “Good luck,” she called out. 

“Good luck with what?” asked Ron. 

Hermione punted, “With whatever it is the Headmaster wants to see him about.” 

Ron creased his brow then gave up and just shook his head. He loved Hermione but he would never understand her. “Come on, let’s go eat.” 

~~~SH~~~ 

Severus laid his hands on the long central work table and closed his eyes. 

_One, two, three, four._ He timed his inhalation in a steady pace then exhaled in a likewise manner. _One, two, three, four._

He’d come across this exercise in the book he read the past week, The Journey From Breakdown to Recovery, as a way for an individual to steady their nerves. 

He opened his eyes and looked once again around the room. 

Despite the fact that it was indeed a wonderful room: large, containing ample counter space, not one but two laboratory sinks, new cauldrons (including one of those platinum ones he’d been wanting for quite a while now), it was in disarray and in his current state the disorder was particularly offensive. 

His vast supply of ingredients from his old laboratory at the Dark Lord's manor, had been piled into boxes which were now sitting atop the work counters. It would take days, perhaps weeks to get it sorted out and stocked into the storage cupboards. 

Severus dragged a hand through his hair as he walked over and opened the one window at the far end of the room. He leaned his head out and took a deep breath. 

The view was magnificent; the roar rumbling up from the thunderous river below was enough to still one’s heart, and the air — it smelled so clean and fresh. 

“Impressive … is it not?” 

Severus turned in surprise at the sound of the Dark Lord’s voice and quickly bowed. 

“I apologize my Lord, I didn’t hear you enter.” 

“No matter,” Voldemort strolled casually into the room. “You may rise.” 

Severus did so and quickly closed the window. 

“What do you think of the room I have chosen for your laboratory?” Voldemort asked as he held his hands outward while looking rather pleased with himself. 

“It is truly outstanding, my Lord.” 

“I wanted you to have the very best Severus.” 

Severus bowed his head. “Thank you.” 

Voldemort began to walk slowly down the length of the central work table. “Now what is this I hear of you being ill?” 

“I apologize my Lord … it won’t happen again.” 

The dark wizard stopped and looked curiously at Severus, “Explain.” 

“I overworked myself taking care of the survivors of the escape. I neglected to eat or take in enough fluids,” Severus swallowed and paused his explanation momentarily, “which in turn led to dehydration and caused a metabolic imbalance in my system.” 

“And now?” pressed Voldemort. 

“I am much better, my Lord.” 

Voldemort considered the man standing before him. Severus was pale, even more so than usual, and he seemed the slightest bit — frangible. Malfoy had corroborated the fact that Severus had worked ceaselessly tending to the needs of the escaped prisoners, but Voldemort wondered if perhaps his interlude with his favorite Potions Master may have played a part in his current condition. 

If it had been anyone else — Voldemort wouldn’t have given a damn. But the truth of the matter was that he needed Severus, and he needed him healthy. 

“But you are not fully healed; I can see that.” 

Severus merely looked down. 

Voldemort turned and began to walk back toward the door. “You took remarkable care of me last year when I was ill and I insist that you extend to yourself the same consideration.” 

He stopped at the door then turned. “I want you to take a few days to regain your strength; you are no good to me sick and frail.” He opened the door. “ _Then_ you may see to assembling my laboratory, but do not overtax yourself.” 

Severus bowed deeply, “Yes my Lord.” The door clicked closed after which he straightened up and stared at it in disbelief that his master had shown him such favor. 

~~~SH~~~ 

"Summoned?" Harry whispered in shock. 

"Yes," Dumbledore confirmed and then held out a small envelope, "He wanted me to give this to you." 

Stunned, Harry looked down at the missive. 

_Always maintain your composure,_ Severus's counsel echoed in his mind while at the same time Harry's own inner voice wanted to shout at the Headmaster for letting Severus go off to God knows where — when he was supposed to be recuperating. 

“When was he summoned?” Harry asked as casually as he could manage. 

"This afternoon." Dumbledore handed him the note, “I must ask you to read it here in my office, and then I will have to destroy it. I’m certain you understand why.” 

Harry stared down at the small cream envelope in his hand, then at the Headmaster. 

“You can read it in the annex if you wish some privacy.” 

He did. “Thank you Sir.” And without another word, Harry walked to the side chamber, closed the door behind him and immediately tore open the envelope. 

_Dear Harry,  
As you must know by now, I have been summoned by the Dark Lord. Word reached us earlier today of the failed attempt on the manor, and so this call does not come unexpected. It is imperative that I go and do what I can to discover the whereabouts of his new headquarters.   
The time away has been therapeutic for me and I am much improved.   
I will send word to you upon my return. Try not to worry.   
S._

The note was too short, but at least it was something and Harry was touched that Sev would take the time to write it as his Dark Mark burned. 

He ran his fingers over the beautiful, looping penmanship. _Huh, his writing never looks like this when he grades our papers._ Then he read through the note a couple more times. He didn’t want to leave it, this first communication from Severus, and didn’t want it to be destroyed. But Harry knew there was no choice, just as he knew that Dumbledore was waiting for him. And so, with a girding breath he opened the door and stepped out of the annex. 

Dumbledore was indeed waiting, and he pointed to a small silver plate resting atop his desk. 

Harry placed the missive on the plate then stepped away and watched Dumbledore wave his hand; the small missive was quickly devoured by an intense blue flame. 

Nothing remained of Severus’s note as the small silver plate sat once again pristine — shining a light on the awkward moment which now ensued. 

_Did Sev tell Dumbledore about us?_ wondered Harry. _He must have,_ and was tempted to ask but then thought wiser of it. "Was there anything else Sir?" 

"No, that was all." Dumbledore felt badly for Harry and considered opening a discussion with the young man, but Severus had asked specifically for Dumbledore to respect and have faith in his ability to handle this matter — this relationship between he and Harry. 

And so instead he simply smiled warmly, "Try not to worry Harry; Severus is very experienced in these matters." 

_I think Sev did tell him._ "Yes Sir, I know." 

~~~SH~~~ 

Crabbe joined Goyle as soon as his guard shift ended, then they Apparated into town and headed straight for the Hogs Head. 

“Blimey Greg, that’s boring stuff.” 

“Yeah, but it’s a far sight better than sitting in that cell; I thought we’d _never_ get out of there.” 

They turned the corner then entered the tavern. “Merlin, this ale is gonna taste good.” 

“Too right,” agreed Vince as they sidled up to the bar, ordered their drinks then took a seat in a dark booth at the very back. 

So much had happened in the past ten days: the prison break from Azkaban, receiving their Dark Marks and becoming junior Death Eaters, the new Headquarters and their new positions as reception guards. 

They felt like real adults what with their little apartment just outside of town, being real Death Eaters and not having to go to school. 

“Hey … who’s that fellow? I think I’ve seen him before,” asked Crabbe. 

“Who?” 

“The bloke sittin’ over there in the corner.” 

Goyle slipped his tongue just under his upper lip as he contemplated the identity of the stranger. “Wait a minute … I know who that is.” 

He then proceeded to explain that the twitchy wizard in question was a Ministry official by the name of Solomon Priestly and that he was teaching Defense at Hogwarts this year. 

“You’re winding me up.” 

“No I’m not. It’s true.” 

“Well then, what the buggery fuck is he doin' sittin’ here in a bar on a school night?” 

“Who cares.” 

Crabbe took a couple more sips of his ale, then he set down his tankard as his eyes grew wide with excitement. “Hold on — I just got an idea how we can score some points and maybe get promoted.” 

“Yeah?” drooled Goyle. “How?” 

Crabbe kept one eye on his intended target as he whispered to Greg, “What do you know about casting an Imperius curse?” 

~~~SH~~~ 

Harry slunk onto the bench and poured himself a cup of coffee. 

“Where the hell have you been?” asked Ron. 

Harry swallowed that blessed first sip, “I went for a jog.” 

It was obvious he’d just come down from the showers as he still smelled of soap and his towel dried hair appeared particularly chaotic. 

“Looks like you should have slept in.” 

“Yeah, well … whatever.” 

“Nearly Headless Nick was looking for you,” said Hermione from behind her edition of The Daily Prophet. 

“What did he want?” Harry managed to ask and yawn simultaneously. 

“He didn’t say,” Hermione finally set down the paper and took a look at him. “Bad night?” 

“Couldn’t sleep.” 

Harry had lain awake for hours worrying about Severus. Then when he finally did doze off, he kept having dreams about fortresses and people being put under the Imperious curse. 

At least the coffee was strong and he sat in his fog sipping his drink, completely tuning out the chatter around him until a loud clank sounded as Ron dropped his fork. 

“Oh no ... Snape's back!" 

Harry in turn nearly dropped his coffee at the announcement. He looked quickly to the front and saw Severus take his seat at the Head Table and begin to survey the room. 

He started with his snakes seated at the Slytherin table and then continued slowly scanning the sea of students until he came upon a pair of emerald eyes. 

They held each other's gaze for a few precious seconds. 

For Harry, the room went silent. _Thank God you’re safe._ Then realization hit him, _Wait a minute … when did you get back?_ And then anger. _What the hell?_

But all too quickly, Severus looked away to Dumbledore as the old wizard moved to stand behind the podium. 

"I only did half the homework this weekend!” Ron's voice drew Harry from his disquiet thoughts. “I thought we’d still be having that Slughorn fellow this week.” 

“You have no one to blame but yourself Ronald," Hermione chastised. "Professor Snape only had the flu. What did you think? That he’d be gone the remainder of the semester?” 

"Will you two quiet down," scolded Ginny, "I'm trying to hear what the Headmaster is saying." 

“Furthermore,” Dumbledore’s voice rang out over the loud murmur in the Great Hall, “until Professor Snape has fully regained his strength, he will only be teaching levels five through seven. Professor Slughorn will continue on teaching levels one through four.” 

A wave of chatter filled the room in response to this news but it didn’t last long; eventually the students quieted then turned their attention to their breakfasts. 

Harry stayed put as long as he could. He had tried to eat, but he was so upset at Severus for not sending word of his return that he just didn't have much of an appetite. 

When Severus finished eating, he stood and left via the annex. Harry quickly decided to try and head him off before class started. 

“I forgot my workbook up in the tower,” he lied as he got up from the bench. “I’ll see you in potions.” 

“But you hardly ate a thing,” Hermione protested with concern. 

“I’m fine,” Harry called back as he raced down aisle and out the doorway and around the corner where he promptly ran right through Nearly Headless Nick. “Ahhhh,” he cried out and cringed from the feeling of deathly cold. 

“Oh Harry I’ve been looking for you.” 

“Yeah, so I heard,” he snapped back as he tried to shake off the lingering feeling of Nick. “What did you want?” 

“Are you upset with me Harry?” 

“No, I’m sorry Nick.” He then huffed in frustration, “I’m just tired and in a hurry.” 

“Very well then,” the ghost brightened, “I won’t dally.” He looked side to side, then held onto his head as he leaned forward and whispered in Harry’s ear, “The Bloody Baron asked me to tell you that Professor Snape has returned.” 

Harry stared incredulously up at the ghost. “When did he get back?” 

“I believe last night.” 

“And you’re only telling me now?” 

“But the Baron only told me this morning.” 

This conversation was quickly giving Harry a headache. “Listen, thanks … but I gotta get going.” He turned and raced toward the staircase. 

“It was nice running into you,” Nick called back cheerily. 

~~~SH~~~ 

When Harry got to the potions room he found the door locked. “Damn.” 

_Maybe he’s in his private lab._ Harry couldn’t decide if he wanted to throw himself at Sev or throttle him, but he did know one thing if nothing else — he had to touch him just to confirm that he was actually okay. 

He turned to head for Sev’s private laboratory but stopped at the sudden appearance of Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini coming around the corner. “I don’t believe this, first Nick and now these two bozos.” 

“Bit far from home, aren’t you? … Potter?” 

“Don’t start Draco.” 

The two Slytherins sallied up to stand right in front of Harry. With Draco a good four inches taller than Harry and Blaise an additional five, they easily towered over the black haired Gryffindor. 

“We’re not starting anything,” Draco answered coolly. “We’re just curious why you’re down here so early.” He looked theatrically from side to side, “Where are your cohorts?” 

“None of your business.” 

“Come now Potter, there’s no need to be testy,” Zabini teased. “We’re all friends … right Draco?” 

“You’re right Blaise,” Draco answered in a sing-song voice. 

Harry rolled his eyes then made to leave but the two tall teens blocked his exit. 

“Not so fast Potter,” Draco sneered, “we’re not quite finished with you. After all, it isn’t often we get you on your own.” 

“First off Malfoy,” Harry said coolly, “you don’t _have_ me, and secondly … just what is it you want?” 

“We heard you’d been sick,” Draco picked off a stray bit of lint from his robes. 

“And that whatever you had was the same thing as the Professor,” added Blaise. 

“It’s rather curious,” Draco shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, “wouldn’t you say?” 

“I believe _overt_ would be a better choice of word,” Severus’s baritone voice cut through the accusation and caused Draco and Blaise to jump about-face in surprise. 

“Sir! We didn’t hear you.” 

“Obviously,” Severus stared coldly down at the two teens. “How very disappointing to realize that in one week’s time, you two have managed to sink to such a plebeian level.” 

“Sir … we didn’t mean anything by it. We were just having some fun,” Blaise was nearly in a sweat while alternatively Draco held a stony expression. 

Severus returned his godson’s hard gaze for a few moments. “On Friday, the two of you will hand in a one foot essay on the qualities and attributes of being Slytherin.” 

As Draco and Blaise stood gobsmacked, Severus turned to unlock the door while scatterings of seventh years began to filter down the hallway for class. 

All Harry had wanted — no needed, was a private moment with Sev before class started. But all he’d gotten for his efforts was a morning of frustration. 

As soon as the door opened, Harry marched past Severus. “Welcome back Sir,” and he brushed his shoulder against Severus’s chest as he headed on into the room to take his seat, red faced and nettled. 

~~~SH~~~ 

Severus started the class by expressing his regret for having missed the past week of classes and then spent ample time driving home the fact that the N.E.W.T.s were fast approaching. 

“It is apparent from the notes given to me by Professor Slughorn that you spent the past five days fiddling with extraneous potions.” Severus was still fuming over this matter. 

“You’re behind schedule now which means we’ll have to step up our efforts to cover each NEWT potion by the Christmas break.” 

A silent wave of shock swept through the class as the students began to calculate the added workload which was about to come their way. 

“It is imperative that you _successfully_ complete each brewing assignment.” 

Severus began to walk slowly toward the back of the room, “Tell me how one would accomplish this?” 

He looked to Draco, “Mr. Malfoy?” 

“Make certain to finish the reading assignment before class.” 

“Correct,” Severus had paused while Draco answered the question but now he resumed his pacing, “And what would be sequent to that?” 

He turned to Blaise, “Mr. Zabini?” 

“Complete the corresponding workbook assignment and have it ready to turn in at the start of class.” 

“Which all of you should have ready for today.” 

A few nervous shuffles broke out around the room. 

“Pass your workbooks to the front.” 

No one dared make a sound although a couple of students, Ron included, were inwardly cursing the unexpected early return of Professor Snape. 

“What was the assigned potion in the syllabus for today’s class?” 

The students answered in unison, “The Draught of Living Death.” 

“Correct.” He surveyed the students. Some were squirming in their seats, Hermione was ready to jump out of hers and run to the storage cupboard — but Harry hadn’t moved. He was staring hard-faced at his desk, apparently still upset. 

“I expect all of you are fully prepared to complete today’s assignment.” Severus headed toward his desk. “As usual, I will come around and inspect your work as you brew. You may begin.” 

Nearly ninety minutes later the class was coming to a close. There had been only four failed attempts for which those students would have to come in the following Saturday and stay until they had successfully completed brewing The Draught of Living Death. 

Harry had managed to calm down as he turned his concentration to brewing, but the insinuation posed by Malfoy and Zabini had him worried. 

_What if they start talking to others? What if they try to start rumors?_ Harry looked to Severus but he was preoccupied levitating each students workbook back to them, including Harry’s own which floated into his now awaiting hands. 

He opened the book to see his grade and discovered a small note tucked tightly into the seam. 

Harry glanced surreptitiously around him. Everyone was busy looking at their own scores so he cautiously removed the small piece of parchment and unfolded it.

_Please stay after._

Harry stared at the note debating whether or not to drop it into the draught, but eventually he tucked it into the safety of his pant’s pocket.

~~~SH~~~ 

Staying after didn’t work out as easily as Harry had hoped. 

First there was Ron. He was livid over the fact that he was one of the four students who had to return Saturday to brew. 

“Calm down Ron or you’re going to get a detention on top of everything else,” cautioned Hermione. 

“But I scheduled the pitch for 8:00!” Ron’s cheeks were flushed as red as his hair. 

“Don’t worry, Harry and I will both practice with you this week…” 

“I think I’m gonna be pretty busy with training,” commented Harry as he watched Sev and Draco exit the lab and go into Severus’s office. 

“Well that’s rich!” leveled Ron. “Where the hell are your priorities?” 

Harry was ready to lose it. On top of his bad night, running _through_ Nick and then _into_ Draco and Blaise, he’d had to sit all through class with Severus so close, but not being able to touch him or talk to him. Counting clockwise stirs and adding counterclockwise stirs was no easy feat while trying to deal with a demanding hard on. 

Harry had come to the end of his rope, “Maybe I’ve got my own stuff to deal with! Did you ever think of that?” 

“What are you talking about?” retorted Ron. 

“You two calm down.” Hermione glared at the two of them, “I’ll work with you, Ron. Harry obviously needs to catch up on the training he missed.” She wrapped her arm just a tad low around Ron’s waist — that always worked. “With any luck you’ll be out on the pitch by 9:30.” 

Ron leaned into her, “Look mate, I’m sorry. This potions stuff drives me nuts. I wouldn’t be taking it if I didn’t have to.” 

Harry sighed, “I’m sorry I blew up.” 

“Don’t worry about it. We all have a lot going on … right?” Just then, Ron’s stomach growled. “Come on, let’s get lunch.” 

“You two go, I need to stay and ask the professor about my training.” 

“Okay, we’ll see you in Transfiguration.” Ron slung his bag over his shoulder as he and Hermione left for lunch. 

Now that everyone else had gone, Harry could hear the conversation in the other room. 

“I didn’t mean anything by it Severus. Blaise and I were just …” 

Suddenly the voices disappeared as Sev, no doubt, must have cast Muffliato. 

Not wanting to get caught out and add fuel to Malfoy and Zabini’s fire, Harry shoved his book bag under the desk, cast a Disillusionment charm upon himself then moved over to a far corner of the lab to wait for Draco’s departure. 

He only had to wait a minute or so, for soon Severus and the silver-blond teen came back into the lab. Draco strode determinately to the door, his jaw hard-set and his gray eyes were glaring, it was obvious that Severus had refused to yield and that Draco was going to have to write that foot long essay. 

When the door closed, Harry ended the charm and Severus watched as Harry’s body gradually reappeared, then he warded the door. 

They stared at each other in silence. 

Now that Harry had Severus all to himself, he wasn’t quite sure what to do next. He knew what he _wanted_ to do, but wasn’t sure if Sev was still feeling distant and withdrawn. So he settled for, “Hi.” 

“Hi.” Severus eventually answered quietly then added, “Are you all right?” 

“Not really.” Harry licked his lips. “Better than I was last night.” 

Severus took a step, “Why, what happened?” 

Harry dragged the tips of his fingers along a desktop as he moved a little closer. “Why didn’t you tell me were back?” 

Severus stopped, “I sent word to you.” 

Harry stopped also, “When?” 

“Last night,” Severus’s voice sounded slightly defensive, “with the Bloody Baron.” 

“The Bloody Baron? You thought the Fat Lady would let him into the tower?” 

“Harry, I’m not up for playing games. Did you or did you not receive my message?” 

“No I didn’t. I didn’t know you were back until I saw you walk into the Great Hall this morning.” 

Harry’s response, nearly dripping with his frustration, caused Severus to literally take a step backward and then stand uncharacteristically still as he seemed to retreat within himself. 

Harry noticed the sudden change in Sev’s demeanor, _What the hell am I doing?_ and he quickly changed tack. “Listen Sev, I don’t want to fight. I’ve just been so worried about you.” He sighed, “I’m glad you made it back in one piece,” then took a doubtful step forward. “You are okay, right?” 

Severus stayed where he was. “Yes, I told you in my letter that I had improved. But I …” 

Harry was now only inches away and looked up at him with — those eyes. “But what?” 

“But … I missed you.” Severus finally finished in a soft voice. 

His words surprised Harry, because Sev never talked like that. “You did?” 

Severus nodded. 

“I missed you too.” 

They were face to face now, and the energy of their emotions was thick between them. 

“Sev, that night before you left … at first you didn’t want me to touch you.” Harry tentatively reached out with his hand, “I wasn’t sure if maybe you still felt that way or if…” 

Before he could finish his sentence and before he knew it, he was wrapped up in strong arms and he wrapped his own around Sev. 

Harry couldn’t get close enough as he pressed himself hard against that wonderfully long torso and burrowed his face against Sev’s elegant neck. “It feels so good to touch you.” 

Suddenly he felt a wall behind him — and Sev was in front. There were cheeks and chins, long thick hair to explore and touching fingers, the aroma of Sev and how Harry felt, and then — their lips were but a fraction apart from each other. 

“Please Sev … kiss me.” 

Severus hesitated, “I … We …” He felt as though he was about to tumble down the most delectable of holes. “Harry, we agreed …” 

“Don’t say it. Please don’t.” Harry took a hold of Sev’s thumb and guided it over to his lips where he kissed it, then wrapped his lips around it — 

Severus gently pulled his thumb away. “Harry, I assured the Headmaster …” 

“Nooo,” Harry pleaded as he sank to his knees taking Severus with him. “Why did you do that? It’s none of his business!” 

“But unfortunately it is.” Severus had to take a couple of breaths to clear his mind, “You must realize that I could be let go for having an affair with a student.” 

Suddenly, Harry grabbed Severus’s arms tightly as his magic began to swirl in response to his strong emotions. It was the first time something like this had happened since his transformation and even though Harry wasn’t sure what was happening, he was certain it wasn’t a surge and that Severus wasn’t in danger. 

“I … won’t … hurt … you,” he managed to verbalize as his body trembled and the walls began to shake. 

Severus pulled Harry closer to him, “Breathe Harry,” and held on for the ride — and what a ride it was. 

During the transformation, Severus had stood on the fringe of Harry’s magic, but now he was physically touching him, completely embracing the young wizard and felt the enormous power vibrate through him. 

The event quickly pinnacled and then began to settle. The room quieted as the walls stopped shaking, Harry relaxed and leaned heavily against Severus, exhausted. 

“Merlin,” Severus whispered. 

After a little bit, Harry gasped. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing, I…” He closed his eyes and shook his head, “I came.” 

“Don’t be embarrassed Harry, it was magnificent … and you’re not alone.”

Harry opened his eyes in surprise and looked down to see the wet spot on Severus’s robes.

Still on the floor, Severus leaned back against the wall and pulled Harry with him. They sat there quietly recovering when Severus suddenly remembered the night of the Leaving Feast — what was it, two years ago? When he had first witnessed a similar event. 

“I never mentioned this to you, but I saw you that night when you spoke to Nearly Headless Nick regarding … you’re Godfather.” 

Harry froze, “You did? Why didn’t you ever tell me? ” 

“I wasn’t certain how you would respond, knowing that I had intruded upon your private moment. I assure you, it wasn’t my intent to eavesdrop. I was in Professor Sinistra’s office when you entered the classroom — it was simply unavoidable.” 

Harry relaxed and lightly laid his hand upon Sev’s chest, “That was such a long time ago.” 

Severus started to card his hand through Harry’s slightly damp hair. “I believe that was the first time I realized that perhaps my opinion of you was in error.” 

Harry looked up to those dark eyes with a quirky little smile, “Only perhaps?” 

Sev returned the little smile, “Allow me to rephrase my comment, Mr. Potter; my opinion of you was unquestionably, distinctly, indubitably …” 

Harry started to giggle. 

“… most decidedly and unequivocally …” Severus took a breath and held the moment, “incorrect. Is that more to your liking?” 

It took Harry a minute to stop laughing before he could answer. “Yes Professor it is.” 

It was an intimate moment and they both just naturally leaned in for a kiss, but then Severus turned away just before their lips touched. 

The sweet moment suddenly turned serious. 

“Damn it Sev, why does this have to be such a big deal? Why can’t we just keep it a secret? No one has to know.” 

Severus gently cupped his hand to the creamy cheek, “But _we_ would know Harry.” Then he gently lifted Harry’s face to gaze at him in earnest. “And that guilt might become a detriment that could possibly tarnish what we have together.” 

Harry thought about what Severus said, then he offered softly, “Tell me something … what if you had died yesterday?” He licked his lips and swallowed hard, “What if I die before I graduate?” 

Severus hadn’t realized he had closed his eyes, but now he opened them and drank in those two lovely pools of green looking longingly at him. 

“Your point is a valid one.” He ran his thumb along Harry’s delectable cheekbone as he pondered this isolated fact. 

Harry waited in hopeful anticipation and when Severus sighed, he thought that maybe Sev had finally seen the light. “Do you agree? It doesn’t make sense for us to wait, does it?” 

“I …” But before Severus could utter another word, a knock sounded at the door. 

The two wizards sitting upon the laboratory floor, entwined in each other’s arms, looked to the door in a panic. 

“Oh shit … it’s time for the next class,” Harry gasped. “How am I going to get out of here?” 

They scrambled to their feet. “My office,” Severus grabbed a hold of Harry’s hand. “You can Floo up to the Gryffindor common room and from their go to your next class.” 

They raced into Severus’s office where he placed a small handful of special Floo powder into Harry’s awaiting palm, which he in turn threw into the Floo and was about to call out his destination but before he could Severus pulled Harry close to him in one sweeping elegant move.

“I believe the aspect you raised is significant,” he panted then ghosted his lips softly across Harry’s, “but I must give the matter further thought.”


	30. A Twitchy Development

  
Author's notes: Thanks to Steppenwolf for his 'spot-on' editing and his invaluable honesty. All rights belong to JKR and the gang.   


* * *

30\. A Twitchy Development 

 

The tree Harry dove behind shattered completely as Dumbledore’s formidable Reducto hit its center. But before the splinters could even begin to fall, the young wizard countered with a well placed Duro which hit Dumbledore squarely on his knee and sent him tumbling. 

“Sir!” Harry called out in shock then pelted across the Room of Requirement to where the Headmaster now lay — somewhat incapacitated. 

“Oh God! Sir, are you alright?” Harry was on the verge of panic. “Let me help get you to Madame Pomfrey.” 

“Oh for Merlin’s sake Harry, calm down,” snapped the Dumbledore as he pulled up the crunchy fabric of his taffeta robe to inspect his knee. “I am certainly capable of handling this!” 

Harry knelt beside his fallen instructor and watched as the old wizard countered the spell which had virtually left his knee solid as stone. 

The skin and bone softened and he was once again able to bend his joint. “There see? Good as new.” He smoothed down his robe over his rather pale, boney appendage then reached out for Harry to take his hand. “Do help me up.” 

Which Harry did, “Sir I’m so sorry; I didn’t mean to hurt you. I promise, next time I’ll be more careful.” 

Dumbledore pulled out two lemon drops from of his pocket, transfigured them into a couple of overstuffed chairs then motioned for Harry to take a seat. “Of course I realize this was unintentional, but the fact of the matter is…” he quickly transfigured another drop into an ottoman to prop his leg upon, “you shouldn’t have to be more careful.” 

Harry scrunched his brows together, “Sir?” 

“The whole point of Professor Snape and me working with you is to give you a challenge … not the opposite.” 

“But Sir, look at you! I do need to be more careful!” 

“No you do not!” Dumbledore extolled then huffed. “Bear with me a moment, would you Harry?” 

He called for an elf to bring them a service of tea. After a few sips of robust Ceylon and a bite of sweet cake, he continued. “The fact of the matter is that with Severus busy at the new stronghold … I simply cannot keep up with you my boy.” 

Harry swallowed his bite of cake. “What is it you’re trying to tell me Sir?” 

“What I’m saying is … that as long as Professor Snape’s evenings are committed to setting up his new laboratory, I need help in carrying out your training.” 

“Well … I can understand that. Whom do you have in mind?” 

Dumbledore took a slow sip of his tea then placed the little porcelain cup on its saucer, “Professor Priestly has asked if he might be allowed to help with your training.” 

Harry tensed, “He did?” 

Dumbledore nodded, “He mentioned having had a discussion with Professor Jackson about one month ago … regarding you, my boy.” 

“Yeah, Channon wrote about it in one of his letters.” 

“I believe he has finally admitted to himself that he was wrong about you. “ 

Harry fiddled with the lid on the teapot but didn’t say anything. 

“So, what is your opinion on the matter?” 

Truth was, Harry wasn’t at all keen about working with Priestly. He didn’t like him and for some reason — he didn’t trust him. But knowing how busy Severus was and not wanting him to get sick again, added to the sight of an exhausted Dumbledore sitting before him with his recently hexed leg resting on the little ottoman, it didn’t seem like he had much of a choice. “All right Sir, I suppose I could practice dueling with him.” 

Dumbledore sighed with relief, “Splendid Harry. I will let him know straight away.” 

~~~~~SH~~~~~ 

Solomon Priestly scribed his critique neatly in the right-hand margin on this, the last essay of the evening. He had been at it for hours, reading and grading the seventh years' recent assignment: _The merits of Perfection in Defensive Magic._

He wiped his quill clean, carefully placed it on the unadorned pen rest then leaned back and released a tremendous sigh as he rubbed his tired eyes and shook his head in frustration over his exhaustion, the ongoing headache and this annoying twitch. _“What is wrong with me?”_

He placed his finger gently at the edge of his eye lid to try to stop the twitch. It didn’t work, his lid continued on as it had for the last few days, twitching every twenty seconds or so. 

Exasperated, he stood and crossed over to the sideboard where he started to pour himself a glass of Scotch. _Stop you fool,_ he reprimanded himself then quickly set down the decanter. 

Solomon Priestly firmly believed that drinking was a social act; one never drank by onesself. 

_I know what’s wrong with me … it’s staying at this blasted castle and teaching these bloody children._

He began to pace back and forth across the small office. _It’s all starting to catch up with me… that must be it._

To say that Solomon was out of sorts would be an understatement. It had all started that night after the failed attempt upon You Know Who’s manor, the night he went to drown his frustration at The Hog’s Head. Ever since then, he simply didn’t feel _right,_ was the only way he could describe it. Added to that was the persistent headache and the embarrassing twitch. 

Everyone could see it; they could see that he wasn’t in control of himself and that made the twitch more difficult to bear than the headache. For Solomon Priestly always had to be in control, he needed order and most importantly — he needed respect. 

A _whoosh_ of sound startled him as a letter flew out of the Floo and then hung suspended, patiently waiting to be noticed. 

He snatched it up and scanned the short note from the Headmaster confirming Potter’s agreement to participate in his proposed dueling sessions. 

He sighed in relief, but at the same moment another part of him — one very much in distress, tried in vain to voice its opposition. 

But the demanding quietude of the Imperius curse was far stronger and it caused him to succumb to its specious logic. 

_Perfect,_ he thought. _This will enable me to carry out my assignment and then, all will be as it should be._

~~~~~SH~~~~~ 

Neville wound his fingers around Luna’s golden locks. They felt so silky and caught the light just so — 

“Luna, let’s go up to the Astronomy tower.” 

She smiled and tipped her head askew, “Orion should be high in the sky just now. Yes, this would be a delightful time.” 

_Whatever works_ thought Neville. “Let’s go,” he whispered. 

They’d stepped into the Porthole just as Harry was coming in, “Hi you two.” 

“Good evening Harry,” answered Luna in a daze, Neville simply looked guilty. 

Harry whispered in Neville’s ear, “It’s almost curfew.” 

With a nod of acknowledgement, he and Luna headed off for distant prospects as Harry joined the remaining students in the common room, slumping onto his favorite chair by the fire. 

“How was training?” asked Ron as he sat back up on the nearby sofa, exposing a rather disheveled Hermione. 

“Not so great,” Harry replied as he looked despondently around the room. “Is it just me, or is everyone snogging in here?” 

Hermione tidied her hair as best she could and cast a quick glance, “I think you’re over exaggerating.” 

Harry stared at Ginny and Dean curled up together in the far corner, and then remembered Luna’s lips — from the looks of them, she and Neville had been hard at it. 

Just then, Hermione flipped her hair back behind her shoulders. 

“You have a hickey on your neck Hermione,” Harry pronounced flatly. 

She quickly pulled her hair back forward and smacked Ron on the shoulder. “How many times do I have to tell you … be careful where you do that,” she huffed. 

“Sorry Mione,” Ron gave her his best _I feel terrible about it_ look, then lightly stroked the mark with his thumb. 

Harry had had enough, “I’m gonna take a shower,” then stood to leave. 

“You can’t do that — we have rounds!” 

He stopped mid-step. “Well hurry up,” he called back then headed off toward the Portraithole. 

“Hermione quickly cast a glamor, then raced to catch up with him.” 

~~~~~SH~~~~~ 

“What's got you in such a foul mood?” 

"Nothing," Harry snapped as he marched down the hallway. 

She turned to go up the steps to the Astronomy Tower. 

“Wait a minute,” he glanced up the steps thinking Neville and Luna were probably up there. “Let’s catch the tower on our way back.” 

“Oh … all right.” They continued down the hall, “Come on, what’s wrong?” 

Harry blew out a heavy sigh. “I’m just frustrated.” 

Hermione quickly cast a Muffliato, “The Professor?” 

“Yeah.” 

“But I thought you two worked things out.” 

Harry dragged his hand through his hair in frustration. “We did … a bit.” He really didn't feel comfortable talking about Severus with Hermione. 

“So?” 

“Um ... well, he hasn't been around much. That's all." 

“Oh." Hermione slanted him a glance. She knew there was more to it than just that, but Harry was being tight lipped. 

They checked the alcove on the sixth floor. “This is all clear,” he said flatly. “Come on, let’s head back up. The Prefects will check the other levels." 

Halfway up the steps he continued, "I suppose there is something else." 

"I knew there had to be more. What is it?" 

“I’m supposed to start training with Priestly,” he said in a depressed voice. 

“You can’t be serious.” 

“Nope, it’s true. I think maybe he asked to do it because of that talk Channon had with him.” 

“Well, maybe it’s for the best. He really is quite good with details.” 

Harry rolled his eyes and headed for the Portrait of the Fat Lady. 

“Hold up!” she called out. “We haven’t checked the Astronomy tower yet,” and then took off in that direction. 

“Oh yeah,” he mumbled and reluctantly caught up with her. They reached the Astronomy tower and as they ascended the steps, Harry intentionally made a bit of noise to warn of their approach. 

It was all for nothing, for when they stepped out onto the tower they found nothing but dark sky and swirling snowflakes. 

“Let’s go Harry; it’s freezing.” 

“You go on,” he answered quietly then walked over and leaned against the battlement. 

Hermione joined him and lightly touched him on the back. “It'll be okay Harry. You just need to be patient and give things a chance to work out.” 

“That’s what Sev keeps saying, that we just need to be patient …” 

They stood in silence and stared out at the chilly landscape. 

“He promised that as soon as term ends, we’ll take a vacation together,” Harry almost did not dare to say it, for fear he would jinks the plans — they seemed too good to be true. 

“That’s wonderful.” 

“Don’t say anything though, ‘cause …” 

“I know, I know … it’s a secret.” 

He bumped teasingly against her. “Thanks for, you know ... being there.” He bit his lip and was quiet for a moment before he continued. “Sometimes it all gets to be a bit much." 

"Yeah, I know." 

"I hate lying to Ron …” He turned and looked earnestly at her, “Do you think he’ll ever understand about me and Severus?” 

Hermione reached up and straightened his Head Boy pin, “You know, I wouldn’t have understood either … if wasn’t for what you’ve told me about him.” She paused then continued, “He never shows that side of himself to us.” 

“He can’t,” Harry said defensively. 

“I understand that … believe me, I do,” she assured him. “And I think that once you are able to tell Ron the truth, he’ll understand also. Just give it time Harry.” 

Harry looked at Hemione with a curious expression. 

"What?" she asked. 

“I …” He was thinking how much he appreciated Hermione. Even though she could be annoying sometimes, he did love her and thought of her almost like a sister. But he couldn't bring himself to say any of that, so he just settled for a quick hug. 

"Come on, let's get back. 

~~~~~SH~~~~~ 

“So where are you meeting him? Ron asked while slinging his book-bag over his shoulder. 

Harry stood staring at the note from Priestly, which detailed the time and meeting place for their training sessions. “The Room of Requirement.” 

They headed for the door but paused and waited as Professor McGonagall bustled past them. 

“Excuse me boys, I’m late for a meeting,” she called back and hurried out of the classroom. 

“No worries Professor,” answered Harry as Ron looked to Hermione whom was still gathering her things. 

“Are you planning on spending the holiday break in here?” he asked. 

“Ha ha,” she snipped. “No I’m not. I just needed to jot down a couple of notes regarding our assignment.” 

“I can’t believe McGonagall gave us homework to do over the break!” protested Ron as they now headed out into the hallway. 

“She’s just trying to keep us on track in our preparations for N.E.W.T.s.” 

They turned and started to climb the staircase. “Listen Hermione, there’s plenty of time to do that during classes. I’d rather have some fun over the break, not work on Transfiguration.” 

She rolled her eyes and changed the subject, “You’re awfully quiet Harry.” 

“I bet you can guess why,” he replied. 

“It will be all right. Don’t worry.” 

“That’s easy for you to say.” 

“She’s right mate,” added Ron encouragingly. “Priestly isn’t so bad. A bit anal …” 

“Ron, don’t talk about him like that,” Hermione reprimanded. “Look how much he’s helped Neville. All that attention to detail was just what he needed.” 

They reached the seventh floor. “Listen you two, thanks for the pep talk.” 

“You want us to wait for you?” 

“I’m not exactly sure when we’ll finish.” Harry sighed and looked down the hallway, “No, I’ll just meet you down at dinner.” 

“All right then … Good luck mate.” 

“It will be fine Harry.” 

“Right,” he croaked then headed off for the Room of Requirement whilst Ron and Hermione went in the opposite direction toward Gryffindor Tower. 

~~~~~SH~~~~~ 

“I need a place to train.” Harry uttered the agreed cue and the heavy doors opened, allowing him into the room. 

Solomon Priestly was already there, waiting for him. “Ah Mr. Potter, right on time.” 

“Hello Sir.” Harry looked around in disappointment at the starkly barren room. _Great. I can see how this is going to go._

Whenever he worked with Dumbledore, the room would be filled with a myriad of objects: armoires, trees, prisms of light—anything an individual could hide behind, be distorted within, or climb up on — all in order to add the factor of dimension to the duel. 

With Severus, he always got the room to change into different places: a warf in a fishing village, a beautiful countryside, an orchard of olive trees. They were all places near his villa in Italy and experiencing them had been a godsend for Harry, as it was now nearly two years that he had been confined to the safety of the castle. 

“I thought we might start with some basic target practice, so that I can observe your technique.” 

“Okay Sir.” Harry’s eyes were drawn immediately to the twitch. It had grown in intensity so that it now included the man’s cheek. “Are you all right Sir?” 

“What this?” Priestly waved nonchalantly at his twitching face. “Do not concern yourself. It is simply due to fatigue. I’m certain it will go away over the holiday break.” 

“Yes Sir,” Harry placated, but couldn’t help thinking that the Professor’s malady added a whole new dimension to the term ‘twitchy’. 

Priestly faced the far wall and waved his wand in an exacting arc. A stone buttress appeared with a bull's-eye painted in its center. “Now Mr. Potter, if you would … please demonstrate for me a Stinging Hex. Try to hit the bullseye exactly in the center mark. 

Harry squinted at the little red dot in the center of the ring. It was almost impossible to see — even with his glasses. Nevertheless, he gave it a go and executed his wandless Stinging hex. 

It missed the little dot by about five inches to the right. 

“You missed.” 

“Well, it’s kind of hard to see that dot. Is it okay to make it bigger?” 

“The entire point of this exercise Mr. Potter, is to refine your spell placement.” 

“Oh.” 

“Try again.” 

Harry sighed, turned back to face the buttress, squinted and then executed another Stinging hex. He missed, but this time it hit just to the left of center. 

Priestly watched intently, apparently trying to discern what it was Harry was doing wrong. “You know Mr. Potter, without using your wand, it is very difficult for me to appraise your movement.” 

“But I can’t use one Sir; it would cause too much damage.” 

“I understand that.” He pursed his lips as if trying to come up with a solution. “Ah, I have an idea.” 

He reached into his pocket, pulled out a coin and Transfigured it into a wand. 

“You can use this. Since it isn’t a real wand, there shouldn’t be any problem.” 

That seemed reasonable, so Harry reached for the innocent looking thin piece of wood. Immediately, he felt the sudden jerking sensation behind his navel as the specious Portkey activated from his touch. 

Panic ripped through him as he realized what was taking place, knowing at the same time that he was powerless to stop what was about to happen.


	31. Sweet Surrender

  
Author's notes: Sorry for the cliff-hanger on that last chapter. Thanks to Steppenwolf for getting this one back to me so quickly. All rights belong to JKR and the gang. Enjoy, SHaria

* * *

31\. Sweet Surrender 

 

“Hermione, pass the potatoes will ya?” 

“Where are they?” 

“Down there by Neville.” 

She looked to her right, “Neville. Would you please pass the bowl of potatoes?” 

“Sure.” 

As she watched Neville reach over for the bowl, a movement in her periphery vision caught her attention. “Oh, there’s Professor Priestly.” 

“What about him?” 

“He’s sitting down at the Head Table.” She looked in the opposite direction, toward the main doors to the Hall, as she handed Ron the bowl. “They must have finished with training, but where is Harry?” 

“He’s probably just taking a shower or something.” 

“I suppose you’re right,” she agreed. 

They turned their attention back to their meals, their conversation adding to the hum of voices and tinkling of cutlery that filled the hall. 

Around the time of pudding, the resonance of the voices changed to murmurs and _Ooohhs_ , the clinking began to stop and was interspersed with occasional _clanks_ as several students dropped the utensils they were holding. 

This change started down by the doors and worked its way slowly across the room. 

“What’s going on?” Ron looked up from his chocolate gateau to see a sea of faces looking at something behind him. Then he heard someone say, “Is that Harry?” 

Ron turned and his heart nearly stopped at the sight that greeted him. 

Harry was walking slowly up the aisle, making his way toward the Head Table. 

His eyes were glaring with ire, his expression — livid. One side of his face was covered in blood, his robes were torn, he was limping and he held his left arm close to his chest. 

Several of his friends and members of the D.A. began to jump off the benches and run to his aid. 

“Don’t touch me!” he ground out and they all stopped. “Get out of my way!” and they responded by backing up to create a pathway. 

He continued on with his determined trek until he finally reached the front of the room and stood before the Head Table, directly in front of Professor Solomon Priestly. 

“Harry my boy! What happened to you?” Dumbledore was standing now, aghast at the sight before him. 

Harry was literally shaking. Was it from anger? Was it from cold? He didn’t know and he didn’t care. He glared emerald green daggers as he raised his shaking arm and pointed to the twitching man in front of him. “He tried to Portkey me out of here!” 

Time seemed to stop momentarily as those congregated stared in disbelief at Harry, some at Priestly— 

Then all hell broke loose. 

The accused wizard jumped up from his chair and ran for the annex door. 

Dumbledore swung his arm in a slashing motion which created strands of ropes that quickly wrapped themselves around Priestly. Both Professors McGonagall and Sprout leapt upon the twitchy wizard and wrestled him to the floor. 

Students began to scream and some jumped up on the benches and tables to get a better view. Hagrid ran across the dais, his lumbering footsteps nearly causing the structure to give way. 

“Silence!” Dumbledore yelled, his voice magically amplified, echoed around the room. “Everyone stay where you are! Do not move! No one is to leave this chamber!” 

Everybody stopped. 

Now the noises of the scuffle still taking place between Priestly, McGonagall and Sprout could be heard. 

“I’ll take him ladies,” Hagrid announced as he took hold of the struggling wizard, whom was now speaking in garbled words, making no sense at all as he struggled to free himself from the ropes and now Hagrid's firm grip. 

"Minerva!" called the Headmaster. 

She hurried over to him, tucking the few stray hairs back into her bun which had worked their way loose during the struggle. “Yes, Albus?” 

"Have the D.A. assist you in getting Mr. Potter up to the hospital wing. Stay with him and don't let anyone enter but myself.” 

"I'll lock the doors and have the D.A. stand guard," she replied then hurried off to collect her charge. 

Ron wrapped his strong arm around Harry whom was shaking so badly now that he could barely stand. "I've got him Professor," Ron told McGonagall as she approached. Then he turned to his injured friend, “Come on mate … let’s get you fixed up.” 

The members of the D.A. formed a human shield around Harry. They made their way slowly down the aisle, ordering students to _get out of the way_ and _stand back._

Dumbledore then instructed the Prefects to escort the students, by House, back to their common rooms adding that curfew was in effect immediately. 

As students began to file slowly out, the Headmaster hurried over to Hagrid and the still struggling Priestly, then beckoned to Mr. Filch to join them. 

"Argus, please assist Hagrid in taking the Professor to your office. I will contact the Ministry and join you as soon as they arrive." 

"With pleasure," drawled the Squib. 

~~~~~SH~~~~~ 

Severus pulled his cloak closer to him as he crossed the ancient wooden bridge leading to the east entrance of the castle. 

He inhaled a lungful of the frigid night air and released it, creating a cloud of warm air which swirled about and then dissipated. 

He was so relieved, dare he say — "happy". Happy that the laboratory was finally set up. All his ingredients; the vials of already brewed and bottled potions, the paraphernalia, everything — it was now all stored away into the cupboards. The cauldrons were set up; he had even tried out the new porcelain one and was very pleased with how it had performed. 

He crossed under the pergola then slipped in through the worn wooden doorway, down the narrow spiral steps then along the torch lit hallway to its end where a portrait of Salazar Slytherin hung. 

"Sssspaahsss" he whispered the one word of Parseltongue he knew, the command form of the verb meaning 'to open'. The portrait responded to reveal a door which Severus unlocked and then stepped into his chambers. 

He shut the door and leaned against it, then closed his eyes and sighed in relief. Now that the laboratory was finished and the fifth and seventh years had fairly caught up to where they should be for their upcoming exams, he could finally resume his training with Harry. 

He pushed himself away from the door and began to cross the room but stopped dead in his tracks when he caught sight of the purple envelope hanging suspended in front of the fireplace. 

The purple envelope was a private signal from Dumbledore indicating a matter of importance. 

Severus crossed over and quickly snatched up the missive, pulling out a piece of parchment and one small bag of unlocking Floo powder. 

He unfolded the parchment and began to read the note. With each word, his heart beat faster so that by the time he’d reached the end, it was literally pounding in his chest. He dropped the note and immediately threw the Floo powder into the Floo. 

It blazed up red, signifying the locked Floo, but in a matter of moments the flames changed to green. 

“Madame Pomfrey’s office!” he yelled then literally leapt into the flames in his pressing need to reach Harry as quickly as possible. 

~~~~~SH~~~~~ 

Poppy was just walking into her office as Severus jumped out of her Floo. 

“How is he?” 

“Severus … it’s all right. Harry is going to be fine.” 

“But a fall from that height … his injuries must be severe.” 

Poppy set down the tray of vials and waved her hand, “No Severus. When he hit the protective ward, he fell into a tree then onto some shrubbery.” 

“And?” Severus’s eyes were wide with anxiety, “What is the extent of his injuries?” 

She patted the air in an attempt to convey reassurance. “His left collarbone is completely broken. The tissue surrounding the brake is damaged and torn. He has numerous cuts and several contusions. He was rather badly shaken by the entire experience … I must say.” She shook her head, “Poor boy.” 

Severus headed straight for the door, “I want to see him,” but then stopped. “Is anyone with him?” 

“No. Albus insisted on keeping the doors locked, but I will have to release the ward protecting him.” 

He turned and stared questioningly at the Mediwitch. "Are there other perpertrators still at large?" 

“We don't know, so Albus erected one just to be safe,” she explained. 

“Please Poppy, I need to see him.” 

Madame Pomfrey escorted Severus down the length of the hospital wing. 

The protective ward Dumbledore had erected shimmered and extended across the entire width of the room. He had left a special wand with Poppy, which she could use to access passage through it. 

“I’ll leave this with you,” she handed him the knotted length of wood. “Put it in the top right drawer of my desk when you leave.” 

“I won’t need it Poppy,” he whispered. “I’m going to stay with him through the night.” 

Albus had mentioned casually that Harry and Severus were good friends and that he would no doubt be concerned. But it was obvious to her from Severus’s reaction and demeanor that this was more than just friendship. 

“Very well Severus, but please do not wear yourself out. You’ve only recently regained your own health.” 

“I’ll rest on the bed next to his.” 

She touched him lightly on his forearm, “I will return every four hours to administer the doses of Skelegro.” 

“I can do that …” 

“No. That’s _my_ job. You just make certain to take care of yourself.” 

He eyed Poppy silently. “I’ll try my utmost,” he answered stiffly. 

She nodded and they both turned in opposite directions, she for her office and Severus towards Harry’s bed. 

He placed his footsteps carefully so as not to make a sound, then peered around the privacy screen. 

There lay Harry sound asleep and propped up on several pillows, covered with a cloud of soft blankets. Severus’s heart, which had slowed its frantic beating as he spoke with Poppy, now picked up its pace once again. 

Was it because of the sight before him? That of Harry injured? Or the blatant realization that if Albus had not erected those protective wards, Harry might very well be in the clutches of the Dark Lord this very moment? Or even worse — dead? 

_What if I die before I graduate?_ Harry’s question echoed in Severus’s thoughts. 

He stepped closer to the bed and gently took hold of Harry’s hand. It was cool to the touch, and he suddenly felt protective. 

_Why didn’t Poppy cover this arm?_ Which Severus proceeded to do with the utmost of care. But he stopped when he lifted the blankets and saw Harry’s left arm, bandaged and bound tightly to his naked chest. There were scatterings of recently and partially healed bruises and cuts littering the young firm torso. 

He contemplated what Harry must have experienced: the terror of being Portkeyed against his will, knowing that he would slam into the ward and being powerless to stop it, falling and colliding into branches, then finally hitting the ground. 

He turned over Harry’s cool hand and saw the remnants of several abrasions and cuts littering his palm; a few of his nails were broken. 

_He must have tried to grasp the branches in an attempt to stop his fall._

Severus covered Harry’s free arm with the blankets, pulling them up over his shoulders. 

An intensity overtook him suddenly and in response, he stepped away from the bed to stand by the window, then drew in a deep cleansing breath that shook his body as it left him. 

He reached up and felt unfamiliar moisture at the edge of his eye, and when he lowered his hand, he looked down at a single unannounced tear which was now perched precariously on the tip of his finger. This small translucent entity bore witness to a fact that he could no longer avoid or deny: that what he felt for Harry wasn’t simply physical attraction, admiration of power or intrigue. He cared for Harry — or dare he say … love? 

A soft mewl caught his attention and he moved swiftly to sit by Harry’s side. 

“It’s all right. You’re safe. I’m here with you.” Then without thinking, Severus leaned down and kissed Harry. 

It felt wonderful to finally join in this way. The kiss was honest and perfect, and when he released his embrace, Severus leaned back slightly and opened his eyes to gaze upon Harry’s sleeping face. 

But what greeted him instead were two questioning eyes. 

“Sev?” Harry whispered with a croaky voice. 

“Shhhhh, go back to sleep.” 

“Did you just kiss me?” 

Severus vacillated a moment but then nodded, “Yes.” 

“That’s not fair. I slept through the whole thing,” Harry’s weak voice was so soft that Severus could barely hear him. 

“I believe I can rectify that situation, Mr. Potter.” He drew nearer and tipped his head slightly to the side then brushed his lips lightly against Harry’s. 

Harry tried to catch Severus before he could slip away again, as he had done two weeks before. 

“I wasn't finished,” he whispered and then swept back in the opposite direction, nibbling and biting as he went. 

“Oh,” Harry moaned, “Don’t stop.” 

It was almost like a dance, the way Severus kissed and licked, then nibbled and pulled. 

Harry reached up to deepen the kiss, but even that slight movement caused him terrible pain. “Aahhhh,” he grimaced. 

Severus sat up and sighed, “I believe that is enough for tonight.” 

“God, am I sore.” 

“Try to go back to sleep.” 

Harry reached for Severus’s hand, “Will you stay with me?” 

Severus kissed Harry once more, but this time his kiss was definite and intense and he used it to convey his strength and sincerity. “I’m going to stay by your side all night. I won’t leave you.” 

“But will you hold me?” 

“You shouldn’t be jostled …” 

“Please.” 

“You can be a brat,” Severus huffed. “You do know that, don’t you.” 

Harry looked up with a pleading emerald gaze. "Please," he whispered once again. 

_Those eyes of his are going to be my undoing. I know it._ "Oh ... all right," Severus surrendered. 

He kicked off his shoes, then eased himself onto the bed and slid his arm cautiously under the pillow, bringing Harry’s head to rest in the crook of his arm. 

“Thanks Sev,” Harry whispered. He could hear the steady beat of Severus's heart echo in his chest; it made him feel safe and lulled him off to sleep in a matter of seconds. 

Severus listened as Harry's breathing deepened and changed to a steady pace. He shook his head slightly then reached down and kissed the messy mop of hair, “What have you done to me Mr. Potter?” 

 

~~~~~SH~~~~~


	32. The Best Christmas Present, Ever

  
Author's notes: My thanks to Steppenwolf for his fabulous editing and honest opinions. All rights belong to JKR and the gang.  


* * *

32\. The Best Christmas Present, Ever 

 

Severus yawned as he stepped under the pelting stream of water; the hot spray wrapping its fluid fingers around the kink of muscles halfway between his neck and shoulder, a remnant of the awkward position in which he’d kept his arm the night before. 

He had held Harry for hours, listening to the injured young wizard’s steady breaths and feeling the slender body so close to his. 

The moonlight slipping through the windows of the infirmary had cast the room in a soft opalescent hue that reminded Severus, as he lay there carding his hand gently though Harry’s hair, of that night two years ago when he had sat with the Gryffindor after the accident at his aunt’s house. 

That night had been a turning point in their relationship — Severus could see that now. And with each following day and encounter they had shared, it seemed as though fate was pulling these two wizards closer together and leading them toward a path of shared destiny. 

~~~~~ 

“Ah Severus, how did it go?” 

All eyes lighted upon the spy and watched as he crossed the Headmaster’s office. 

“Minister,” Severus acknowledged Scrimgeour then nodded to the others assembled as he reached the tea cart and surveyed the selection. “The Healer has finished his assessment.” 

“And?” asked Dumbledore. 

Ceylon sounded good this afternoon, “The children are all fine.” He added a squeeze of lemon to the tea now housed in a damask cup and turned to face those select members of the Ministry and Order who had gathered to discuss the unbelievable events of the previous day. “The other houses?” 

“All clear,” reported Minerva. 

Severus took a seat next to her, “And Priestly?” He masked his ire with a cool tone of voice. Even though he knew the wizard was as much a victim as Harry, he was still livid with the man. 

“We were just about to get to that,” replied Scrimgeour. “Kingsley, would you please read the latest report?” 

“Yes Minister.” The ebony wizard removed the parchment from his leather portfolio and took a moment to scan the document. “The Healers from St. Mungos state that Solomon is still obtunded and will need further treatments.” 

“That’s … it?” sputtered Gawain Robards, Head of the Auror department. 

“Yes,” confirmed Kingsley. 

“But has he spoken?” Robards pressed. “Did he at least say who did this to him?” 

“What part of the word ‘obtunded’ don’t you understand,” replied Moody in a gruff voice. 

“Please Allister,” Remus chastised softly and then turned his attention back to Kingsley. “Do they offer an estimate as to how long it will take to remove the curse?” 

Shacklebolt looked over the document once again. “The curse has already been removed.” He shook his head as he continued to stare at the bad news. “Apparently, whoever cast the curse was rather inept. There is some residual damage …” He looked up and met the gazes of everyone who was listening intently. “He will heal, but it is going to take time.” 

“Dear me,” sympathized Minerva. 

Robards stood up and began to pace, “All right then … Priestly can’t tell us anything, and you say that everyone else here at the castle has been cleared?” 

“Yes Gawain,” Dumbledore confirmed. “All of the children and staff members have been checked. No one else is cursed.” 

“Then can someone _please!_ ” he yelled, “tell me how one of my top Aurors, working at Hogwarts, was Imperiused?” 

~~~~~SH~~~~~ 

Ron and Hermione barely managed to get off the staircase before it started to swing away in the opposite direction from the Hospital Wing. As they turned down the corridor, they saw the Auror whom had been assigned by the Ministry to protect Harry until the investigation was completed. 

The slowed their pace as they approached the imposing official standing in front of the doors and staring down at them with a Spartan expression. “No one may enter without a pass,” he barked. 

“But we were told it was okay for Harry to have visitors now,” Hermione pleaded. 

“No pass — no entry.” 

“But …” she was about to continue her entreaty when the doors opened and out stepped Madame Pomfrey. 

“It’s all right young man,” she handed an official looking note to the guard. “I just received word that the investigation is now complete.” 

The guard read the note, “Very well, they may enter. But it says here I am to remain at my post to provide security as you see fit.” 

“That will be just fine,” Madame Pomfrey patted his arm then turned to the anxious Gryffindors. “I think there’s someone who would very much like to see you two.” 

~~~~~SH~~~~~ 

“Outposts? What outpost?” asked Robards. 

“The outpost used to travel to and from the Fastness,” replied Severus. 

“What in Merlin’s name are you talking about Snape?” 

"I detailed all of this information in my report.” Snape looked questioningly to Dumbledore, “You did pass it on, didn’t you?” 

“He did Severus,” interjected Scrimgeour. “I simply haven’t finished my review. Your report is still in my safe.” 

“That’s all well and fine Minister,” snapped the exasperated Auror. “But considering what has happened, don’t you think the time has come to share this information with the rest of us?” 

Scrimgeour opened his mouth to speak but Severus interceded, “Perhaps it would be best if I simply relay the details of what I have observed.” 

“Thank you Snape,” agreed the Minister, “that probably would be best.” 

So Severus set down his cup and began the lengthy description of the protocol involved in traveling to and from the Dark Lord’s new headquarters. 

He explained that now, when Apparating in response to the call of the Dark Mark, he is lead to a shack where he must supply a password to the guard on duty. He in turn is then handed a Portkey which transports him to the reception room at the Fastness. 

“The Fastness?” Robards leaned forward in his chair. “What Fastness?” 

Snape looked to Dumbledore then to the Minister. They both nodded their heads for him to proceed. 

He drew a deep breath, “Of what I have seen, the Fastness is situated a top a large outcropping of rock. Around this outcropping runs a powerful river that cuts through a dense forest.” 

“Do you have any idea where this forest is located Severus?” asked Minerva. 

He shook his head. “The potions laboratory is situated on the east side of the second level. There is one window in it, and from there I can view a stretch of the river which runs north to south. Straight out, all I can see are trees.” 

“Can you tell what kind of trees they are?” Arthur offered excitedly. “Perhaps that might help determine the location.”

His obvious suggestion was greeted with a cold black stare. 

“I suppose you already thought of that,” Arthur responded softly. 

“Pinus sylvestris and Picea abies,” Severus replied in a flat voice. 

“Unfortunately,” Dumbledore chimed in lightly to diffuse the tension, “those two genus and species of trees make up the majority of forests in Northern Europe.” 

“Please continue Snape,” redirected Shacklebolt. 

Severus went on to explain that guards were positioned throughout the building itself and that one was only allowed access to the specific area needed to accomplish their task, etc. Once completed, one was to leave — immediately. 

He then addressed Dumbledore, "Albus, do you still have that scaled drawing I gave to you?" 

"It's in my desk, Severus." 

"Perhaps if you conjured duplicates and passed them around to the others." 

"Good idea." 

"A scaled drawing of what?" asked Moody as Dumbledore proceeded to his desk. 

"Of the Fastness." 

"Really?" Arthur's eyes brightened as his copy came floating to him. He grabbed it and began to inspect the drawing, as did everyone else. 

"But there's hardly anything to this?" Robards criticized as he stared at his copy. 

“Yes, it is incomplete; I am only allowed access to hallways and corridors I must travel through to reach the laboratory.” 

“What is this large room, here on the first floor?” asked Moody as he tipped his head and looked at the map with his whirling artificial eye. 

“It is the chamber where the Dark Lord holds assemblies. Leading south is the hallway to the reception room. Here,” Severus pointed to the large central staircase, “is the stairway that accesses the upper floors.” 

“How many levels are there?” asked Tonks. 

“I am only allowed access to the second level, specifically, the east wing of the second level. But from my observation, there are only three levels.” 

“That’s it?” Robards asked, his voice a little too loud. “All you can offer is this incomplete drawing and talk of shacks, rivers and trees?” 

Severus donned his expressionless mask and leveled an unreadable glare at the brazen Auror. 

“I’d like to see you try to and do as much!” snapped Molly. Severus Snape held a dear spot in her heart ever since he had come to Arthur’s rescue two years previous to straighten out the calamity with the Dursleys. 

“Gawain, that's enough,” Dumbledore chastised. “Molly, please calm down." He paused a moment as the intensity of the moment diffused. "Now, I understand that we are all on edge, but to attack each other serves no purpose!” 

“Severus,” Remus spoke the name as gently as possible, never-the-less, the spy stiffened in response. “Might you have an opinion with regards to the shack?” 

Severus could barely stand having the werewolf speak to him. Though it had been many years, he still harbored resentment for the teenage prank that had nearly cost him his life. But of every question and request posed thus-far, this was the first truly insightful comment he’d heard. 

“It is my perception,” Severus answered as he pointedly did _not_ look at Remus, “that there are many of these outposts. And depending upon where the Death Eater is summoned _from_ , determines which outpost he Apparates _to.”_

Some members gasped and some were agape at the implication of this statement. 

“So there’s one near Hogwarts,” surmised Robards. 

Severus stared coldly at the Auror and nodded. 

“And that means there are always Death Eaters in the vicinity?” offered Minerva. 

Severus' expression softened as he glanced to her and nodded his confirmation. 

“And that’s where Harry would have been taken, if it hadn’t been for the wards,” Molly trembled at the thought. 

So did Severus. 

~~~~~ 

“Stop being a dolt and let me help you,” Ron admonished as he watched his best friend limp back from the bathroom. 

“No, I can do it myself,” retorted Harry, frustrated by the fact that he was in the infirmary — again; he was determined to walk back to his bed under his own power. 

“Well, at least let me help get you back into bed.” 

The injured young wizard didn’t have much of an option in that department, what with his arm still bound to him and being so sore that he could barely manage by himself. 

The day had been a complete blur due to the strong potion Madame Pomfrey had given him that morning immediately after his breakfast and right before she started to repair the torn muscles, tendons and ligaments surrounding his recently mended collarbone. 

He had slept through the entire painful process and well into the afternoon and had only recently awoke to find Hermione and Ron there at his bedside. 

Harry plopped his head down on the pillow, exhausted from his excursion to the bathroom. “God I hate being messed up.” 

Hermione pulled the covers over him, “Did Madame Pomfrey say how long you’ll have to stay in here?” 

“Just a couple of days,” he said through a sigh. “At least I’m not missing any classes …” Harry stopped midsentence as he just realized something. “Wait a minute — what day is it?” 

“It’s Saturday Harry,” Hermione stated matter-of-factly, “yesterday was Friday.” 

He gave her an exasperated look. “That’s not what I meant. Why are you two still here? You should be on the Hogwarts Express, halfway to London by now.” 

“We all had to stay and get checked out,” said Ron as he stretched his long legs and put his feet up on the bed. “You know, to make sure none of us had been Imperiused.” 

“And? What did they find?” 

“Nothing,” Hermione answered as she scanned the stack of papers she held. “Everyone is fine.” 

“Well, that’s good I guess.” He glanced over, “What’s all of that?” 

“She looked up and beamed, “This is my application to Oxford. I have to submit it by the beginning of the year.” 

Harry’s eyes grew wide, “Oxford? I didn’t know you were planning on going there.” 

“Yes, their magical division has a fabulous Ancient Runes program. I’m so excited.” 

“And,” chimed Ron, “since we’re all going to be in London going to school, maybe we can all share a flat. Wouldn’t that be cool?” 

Harry suddenly felt as though a train had barreled on by and left him standing on the platform. “I’ve been so busy with my training, I hadn’t really thought about where I’d stay during Auror training.” 

He gasped, “Wait a minute … when do we have to get our applications in?” 

“Don’t worry mate, not until June. We have plenty of time.” 

Just then they heard the Infirmary doors open followed by the sound of familiar voices. 

“Is that your Mum and Dad?” asked Harry 

“Yep, they’re here for some meeting. Probably they just want to see how you’re doing.” 

“Harry dear!” Mrs. Weasley extolled as she came into view from around the privacy screen. 

“Hi Mrs.Weasley!” Harry’s eyes were wide with surprise as she hugged him gently and kissed him on his forehead. 

“Harry, my boy,” Arthur Weasley was all smiles. “How are you feeling?” 

“I’m okay Sir. A little sore, that’s all.” 

Molly proceeded to ask Harry about his injuries and what treatments Madame Pomfrey had performed. Where did he hurt? She had to check his bandages — 

“Mum! Give the poor man a break,” Ron came to Harry’s defense. 

“Here Molly,” Arthur summoned a chair for her. “Why don’t you sit down then we can all have a nice chat.” 

“So how did the meeting go, Dad?” 

Mr. Weasley leaned back in his chair, “You know I can’t reveal any details, but there was an interesting topic that came up _after_ the meeting.” 

“What was that, Mr. Wesley?” asked Hermione. 

“The subject of your new Defense instructor.” 

Harry’s eyes grew wide with excitement, “Is Channon coming back? Oh my God, this is great!” 

“No, no Harry. It isn’t Channon, but I believe you will be very pleased when you hear who it is.” 

The three teens stared expectantly at Mr. Weasley as he smiled and tapped his fingers on his knees. 

“Arthur, stop toying with them and tell them who it is,” reprimanded Molly. 

“Very well, Molly dear.” He withheld his revelation a moment longer, prolonging their anticipation. “You’re new Defense instructor is going to be … Remus Lupin!” 

It was a good thing Harry was lying down, otherwise he would have fallen over. 

Hermione and Ron sounded their happiness and approval over the news. 

“Oh, this is wonderful,” proclaimed Hermione. “I love Professor Lupin.” 

“Yeah,” added Ron. “He’s absolutely the best!” 

“Harry dear,” asked Mrs. Weasley worriedly, “what’s wrong? All the color has drained from your face.” 

Harry’s breathing had picked up and the room felt like it was spinning. “Uh, I just feel a little dizzy. Must be that potion from this morning.” 

“Arthur, go get Poppy …” 

“No, I’m fine.” Harry put his hand to his to his head in an attempt to stop the spinning. 

“Here dear, drink some water.” Mrs. Weasley held the water glass to his lips. 

He took a few sips then closed his eyes. “I guess it’s just been a long day.” 

“But you slept through most of it,” Ron’s objection earned him three sets of glares. 

“Arthur, perhaps we should tell Harry our other good news.” 

If the idea of Remus coming back into his life was her idea of good news, Harry didn’t want to hear more. 

Arthur stood up and looked around the privacy screen. There was one other student at the opposite end of the infirmary, in the bed closest to Madame Pomfrey’s office. The child looked to be very young and was sound asleep. Even so, he cast a silencing charm just to be safe, then turned back to face the small group. “You tell him, Molly.” 

Mrs. Weasley leaned forward and took a hold of Harry’s free hand. “Harry dear, we had a long chat with the Headmaster and we’ve worked out a plan.” 

“A plan?” Harry asked with trepidation. 

She nodded with excitement. “The children are all leaving tomorrow morning to go home for the holidays, and tonight …” She turned to look at her husband, “Why, it’s suppertime right now. So I imagine Albus will be making the announcement very shortly.” 

“I believe you are correct, Molly dear,” Arthur confirmed. 

Harry, Ron and Hermione all exchanged looks of confusion. 

“Mum, will you just get on with what you’re trying to say? You’re not making any sense!” 

“Patience, Ronny,” she chastised then turned her attention back to Harry. “Anyway Dear, Dumbledore is going to make an announcement this evening to the student body that you will need to stay in the infirmary throughout the holiday break, and that the Auror from the Ministry will remain on guard so that no one can enter.” 

So far this ‘plan’ wasn’t sounding good at all. “I have to stay in here all holiday break?” 

“No Dear, this is all just a dodge.” She smiled and brushed back his fringe. “As soon as Poppy says you can go, you’ll Floo up to the Headmaster’s office and from there …” she paused and beamed to all those sitting around the bed, “you’ll Floo straight to the Burrow.” 

Ron actually jumped up from his chair. “Harry’s coming to the Burrow for Christmas?” 

“He is indeed,” confirmed Mr. Weasley. 

“This is brilliant! Oh Harry, this is going to be great. Finally you get to come home for Christmas!” 

Harry didn’t know what to think. Ever since he had met them on Platform 9 3/4, he’d dreamt of how wonderful it would be to spend Christmas with the Weasleys. 

Ron had always talked about all the decorations, the Christmas tree with presents piled around the base, the special biscuits, cakes and puddings his Mum made only during the holidays, and their big holiday meal with everyone gathered around the table. 

Harry had often imagined being there, being a part of the family and experiencing this wonderful childhood dream — but he was no longer a child , and he had begun to dream of a different holiday, one that included Severus. 

“What’s the matter dear,” asked Molly in response to Harry’s silence. “Don’t you want to come?” 

“Of course I do, Mrs. Weasley," he perked up his expression. "It's just such a surprise." 

“We should be going Molly,” Arthur suggested. “Ron, Hermione, you too; let Harry get some rest.” 

“We’ll stop by and see you in the morning before we leave,” Ron said as he gave Harry a pat on the foot and went to join his father. 

Hermione leaned down and kissed Harry on top of his head. “See you in the morning, Harry.” 

~~~~~ 

“I really don’t think I need it, Madame Pomfrey.” 

“Harry, I can guarantee that your shoulder is going to keep you awake if you don’t take this pain draught,” she admonished as she held out the tiny dark blue vial. 

“Couldn’t you just put it on the nightstand? I can take it later if I need it.” 

She furrowed her brow, “What’s going on?” 

“Nothing,” Harry was adamant. “It’s just that stuff makes me dizzy and sleepy.” 

“But you need your rest.” 

Harry had learned quite a bit from Severus regarding tactics and strategy, but there was one tactic Severus had taught Harry, quite inadvertently — the fact that his emerald eyes could accomplish miracles. The ‘Chosen One’ or not, he was desperate. So he lifted up his verdant gaze and gave her _that_ look. “Please?” he implored softly. 

It worked like a charm, “Oh … all right.” She set the vial on the nightstand. “But don’t wait too long. Promise?” 

“I promise,” Harry sighed with relief. “Thanks Madame Pomfrey. Good night.” 

“Good night Harry.” 

He watched the Mediwitch as she dimmed the lights and walked off toward her office. Not too much later, he heard the sound of her closing another door. 

“Great,” he whispered as he slowly crawled out of bed then hobbled over and peered around the privacy screen. 

The bed where the small child had been was now empty. “Yes,” he counted good fortune and then limped quietly down the length of the ward. 

Harry peeked into the darkened office. There was a sliver of light shining out from under the doorway to Madame Pomfrey’s private quarters. He had to wait about ten minutes, but eventually the light vanquished and the sound of another set of doors closing soon followed. 

She’d gone to bed — finally. 

His bruised hip was manifesting its displeasure at all this walking and tiptoeing, but Harry was determined. Without making the slightest sound, he crept into the Mediwitch’s office and over to the Floo, then he scooped up a handful of Floo powder from out of the tin on the mantle and was about to throw it in when he saw three small transparent bags of the red unlocking Floo powder. 

So he grabbed one of those for good measure, threw in the powder and whispered “Severus Snape’s quarters.” 

~~~~~ 

Severus stretched out on his couch and took a sip of his Scotch. 

He was exhausted from his late night and the unbelievably long day he’d just endured. First there had been the assessments that morning, then that insufferable meeting with the Ministry and the Order, the news that the Werewolf was returning to teach and to top it all off — it had been impossible to go see Harry. 

How could he explain another night’s vigil to Poppy? He couldn’t, so instead he had poured himself a drink and hoped that he’d at least be able to see Harry tomorrow before he left for Tuscany. 

Severus had just taken another sip when his Floo flared and spit out the young wizard whom then landed in a heap on the hearth rug. 

“Harry!” Severus jumped up and ran over to him. “Are you all right? What has happened?” 

“Nothing Sev,” he managed as he tried awkwardly to get into a sitting position. “I just had to see you.” 

Severus stared at him with a look of incredulity. 

“Are you certain your injuries didn’t include one to your better judgment?” He began to admonish Harry but before he could utter another word Harry grabbed Severus by the collar, pulled the man to him and kissed him for all he was worth. 

Severus tensed at the sudden amorous thrust, but the feeling of Harry pressing against him and the intensity of his kiss, it wasn't long before Severus gave in and lay down on the rug, taking Harry with him. 

Severus carefully wrapped his arms around the narrow torso and returned the kiss with passion. Then he felt the flick of a tongue, so he parted his lips to welcome Harry in. 

For Harry, the dizziness he’d experienced from that potion in the little blue vial was nothing compared to the swirl that washed over him as he felt Severus' tongue slip inside his mouth and tasted a hint of — something. 

It was as if they had been starving for each other as they each devoured the other with hungry kisses. Their passion lasted a blissfully long stretch of time then lulled but intensified again, only this time their kisses were playful and inquisitive as they explored the sculptured edges of teeth, the soft arch of a brow; Severus even found that little spot, right behind Harry’s ear. 

“Oh God, yes,” Harry moaned as he felt the talented tongue flick and swirl, while beneath him Severus grew larger and harder. It was nearly more than Harry could bear as everything around him started to spin. 

“Sev?” 

“Yes?” he whispered through a kiss. 

“I think I’m gonna pass out.” 

After a moment to gather his senses, Severus repositioned Harry so that he was on his back. He then summoned a pillow which he placed under Harry’s legs and then covered him with a blanket. 

Next, he summoned the glass of Scotch. “Take a small sip of this,” Severus whispered anxiously as he pressed the drink to Harry’s lips. 

It burned as it went down but it cleared away the flurry in his head. “Whoa.” _That’s what that taste was._

“Lay still and rest a moment.” Severus carded his hand through messy hair and looked down at the man whom he’d come to care for — far too much. “Harry, what am I going to do with you?” 

“What d’you mean?” 

Severus closed his eyes and sighed. “This is all my fault.” 

“No it isn’t. It’s not your fault, it’s not my fault. It just … _is._ He reached out and took a hold of Severus’s hand. “And you’re not going to deny that this exists, Sev. No more.” 

Severus leaned forward so that he was only inches from Harry and gazed for the longest time into his beautiful eyes. “I promise you, that I won’t deny … us, any longer. But we have to be careful.” 

“I can do that,” Harry’s voice was breathy with expectation. 

“How did you manage to Floo down here tonight?” 

“I …” His eagerness suddenly caught in his throat. “Um, well …” 

“What?” 

“Well I, uh … waited until Madame Pomfrey went to bed, then I stole some of her Floo powder.” Harry cringed at the shocked look on Severus’s face. 

“How do you expect to get back? I’m certain her Floo is still locked.” 

Harry held his gaze on Severus’s shocked ebony eyes as he pulled out the little bag of unlocking powder from the pocket of his pajama bottoms. “I also stole this.” 

Severus lowered his forehead and rested it on Harry’s. “Merlin, help me.” 

“Listen Sev,” Harry cupped his hands around ivory cheeks, encouraging Severus to look at him. “I was desperate. I _had_ to see you. They want me to go to the Weasleys for Christmas, but I want to stay here with you.” 

“I won’t be here, Harry.” 

“What?” He felt a sudden pang of hurt. “Where are you going?” 

“I always go to my villa during the holiday break. The olives are harvested in the late Fall; I must go and inspect the crop. I do this every year,” he added, as if that would wipe away Harry’s disappointed expression. 

“Okay, I remember you telling me about the olive trees at your villa, but I guess I never really thought about what was involved.” Then he had an idea. “Can I come with you?” 

“Harry, look at you … you’re injured.” 

“But …” 

“No, now listen.” Severus softened his stern words with a kiss and then lingered nearby as he continued. “Go to the Burrow; let Molly take care of you. It’s only for two weeks, and I promise that after you finish school, we’ll go to the villa then.” 

“All right,” he sighed. “But when you get back, you have to figure out some way so that we can see each other, cause' I can’t keep going on the way we have been.” 

Harry pulled Severus down for another long, deep kiss then reached out to touch that hard length, but he was deterred by a firm yet caring grasp. 

“Not tonight, Harry.” 

“But …” 

“You nearly passed out from just kissing, can you imagine what would happen if you orgasmed?” 

“It would be worth it.” 

“ _And,”_ Severus lingered on the word for emphasis, “there is still the challenge of getting you back to the infirmary, unnoticed.” 

Harry couldn’t deny the logic of the statement, so he just gave a huff of frustration. “Oh, all right.” 

“But there is something I wish to ask you before you leave.” 

“Yes?” Harry was keeping his hopes up, amongst other things. 

“Why didn’t the Dark Detector alert you to danger yesterday when you were in Priestly’s presence?” 

“Oh,” he hadn’t expected that. “Well I didn’t have it with me; I usually keep it in my trunk.” 

“And why is that?” Severus asked stonily. “You don’t like it?” 

“Of course I like it. I just don’t want to break it, like I did the amulet.” 

“What good can a Dark Detector do if you don’t keep it on your person?” 

“But what if I have one of those surges … ?” 

“Then we’ll get you another one.” Exasperated, Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. “Harry, please promise me that you’ll keep it with you at all times.” 

“I’m sorry Sev. I promise — I’ll keep it with me from now on.” 

The clock chimed the hour, reminding them of the precariousness of the situation. 

“We’d better get you back before Poppy discovers you missing.” 

“We?” 

Severus helped Harry get to his feet then held him close as the dizzy young wizard found his balance. “Yes ‘we.’ Do you expect me to send you off on your own in your present condition? No doubt Poppy would awake in the morning to find you lying on her office floor.” 

Harry couldn’t dispute the fact that he did have trouble with Floo travel and that he was still lightheaded. “You’re right, I guess.” So he held tightly onto Severus as he threw in the powder and was amazed at the ease and steadiness with which they exited the Floo. 

The office was dark and silent and thankfully there was no sign of Poppy Pomfrey. 

Severus wrapped a supportive arm around Harry and the two successfully managed to make it out of the office and down the length of the ward — undetected. 

With Harry now in bed and under the covers, Severus sat down next to him and leaned in close. 

“I love your eyes, Sev.” He spoke in a whispered voice. 

Harry always had a way of doing this to Severus — saying something unexpected, making him feel off-kilter. “You do?” 

“They’re so dark, they hide your secrets and your thoughts.” 

Severus had only ever considered his eyes as black, ebony at best. He carded his hand through that unruly hair, something that was becoming an enjoyable habit, and considered divulging his own long held secret. 

“I feel the same ..." Severus hesitated, reticent to reveal his vulnerable side. 

“Tell me.”

He had lowered his sight during his hesitation, but now Severus looked up into pools of emerald green gazing back at him. “I've always felt ... how very easily I could drown in your eyes.”

"Sev..." Harry whispered and reached up to kiss him once again; it was unhurried and full of sincerity. "Have a Happy Christmas, Sev," he whispered softly. 

“Happy Christmas, Harry.” 

 

~~~~~SH~~~~~


	33. Clothes Stay On

  
Author's notes: The stage is being set for the final semester. All rights belong to JKR and the gang.  
My thanks to Steppenwolf for his expert editing (and his inadvertent inspiration for the title).  


* * *

33\. Clothes Stay On 

 

Harry sat perched on the sill of Ron’s bedroom window staring out at the frosty landscape. The light cast from the low moon caused bluish shadows to stretch out across the crusted snow like wintery ghosts laying wait for the dawn. 

He caught sight of a small gray fox slinking silently from shrub to tree in search of food. As it moved nearer to the garden, several of the gnomes began to scurry and run for cover. 

Ron chose that particular moment to let out a loud snore, startling Harry from his pensive state. When he looked back, he saw that the fox and the gnomes had vanished and all that remained was a flurry of snow drifting silently back down to the ground. 

It was nearly midnight and the Burrow was uncharacteristically still, a stark contrast to the hubbub of the past two weeks. 

Christmas with the Weasleys had been just as Ron described and all Harry had ever imagined; the decorations and special foods, the holiday spirit and feeling of love, conversations with the twins, Bill, Charlie — all the Weasley offspring had come for that special holiday, all save for one. 

Harry ran his hand over the bright green jumper Mrs. Weasley had knit for him. It was thick and warm and had a magical woven Snitch which moved about the garment at will. He tried to touch the precocious piece of thread but it fluttered quickly away, causing Harry to smile. 

He leaned back his head back and let it thump against the window sill as he continued to fret about this and that: missing Severus, the recently attempted abduction, his upcoming NEWTs, the return of Remus and the chance of getting hurt all over again. 

Part of him wanted to believe that Remus had maybe forgiven him and wanted to allow him back in his life. Even if he had, which Harry doubted, letting Remus in would mean trusting that he wouldn’t disappear again — and Harry was having a hard time believing that Remus would stick around this time. 

He had tried talking to Ron, but Ron just didn’t get it. 

_Listen Harry,_ Ron had said. _You know he had to travel a lot for the Order, but now he’ll be at Hogwarts. Talk to him; get to know him better._

Yeah well, that was easier said than done. 

Tired of listening to Ron snore and giving up on the prospect of sleep, Harry slid off the sill, tiptoed out of the bedroom and headed down to the kitchen for a cup of warm milk, thinking perhaps it might settle his busy thoughts. 

But when he stepped into the kitchen, he stopped in his tracks at the sight of Mrs. Weasley sitting in her rocker by the hearth. The light from the fire reflected upon her face and Harry could tell that she was crying. 

He hung near the door, hesitant to disturb her private moment. 

“Harry …you’re still up?” she asked as she quickly brushed the stray tears from her cheeks. 

“Yeah, I uh … couldn’t sleep.” He walked tentatively over to join her. “Are you all right, Mrs. Weasley?” 

She forced a twitter, “Oh, don’t worry Harry dear; I cry at the drop of a hat.” 

He sat down across from her on the bench, debating whether or not to address what he thought was the real reason for her tears. “You’re crying because of Percy.” 

Molly’s pasted smile fell from her face. “You know me too well, I suppose.” 

“It’s all my fault,” he whispered. “He would have come for Christmas if I weren’t here.” 

“You mustn’t think that dear.” 

“But it’s true,” Harry looked to her with troubled green eyes. 

Molly dabbed away her sniffles and moved over to sit next to him. “Now you listen to me,” she gave a sniff and took hold of his hand in both of hers. “Percy was wrong about you and the return of You Know Who. He knows it, just as he knows it was wrong to turn away from us and to discredit you.” 

“Then why …?” 

“Because he’s embarrassed, that’s why,” she said adamantly, “and he hasn’t found it within himself yet to face us, or to face you.” She squeezed his hand, “Harry, Percy owes you an apology. Sometimes it can be very difficult to admit when we are wrong and even harder to admit it to someone you’ve hurt.” 

She watched Harry as he thought about her words. He was nearer to the hearth than she and the fire behind him framed his face, lighting his eyes and casting a warm glow on his features. She noted the faint stubble of hair along his jaw and upper lip. 

“You’re growing up so fast. Soon, you and Ron will start Auror School and your adult lives.” The little Snitch caught her eye briefly, as it swooped up over Harry’s shoulder then disappeared down his back. 

“I am so very proud of you Harry dear; you must always know that we love you and that this is your home. You’re part of this family, don’t ever forget that.” 

It had been a long time since Harry had cried, but her words brought a glint of tears to his eyes. What could he say to her, this woman whom had been the closest thing to a mother he could ever remember, someone whom had stood by him during his depression? It all seemed a bit too much to put into words, so he settled for, “Thanks Mrs. Weasley.” 

~~~~~SH~~~~~ 

Severus stared pensively at the low winter moon, watching as it inched its way slowly across the Tuscan night sky. 

He was wrapped in thought, trying to determine how best to handle his relationship with Harry. It had taken him the better part of his holiday break to finally admit this fact to himself: that what the two of them shared was indeed a relationship; they’d been through so much together, knew each other’s secrets, frailties and fantasies, not to mention the attraction — Severus could barely stand being so far away from Harry, unable to touch or kiss him. 

But as much as all of this was real, the fact that Harry was still a student was also real and something Severus simply could not ignore. 

So, what to do? 

He leaned back in his chair and took a sip of the Primitivo he had been nursing all evening. 

Obviously, avoiding Harry’s advances hadn’t worked and in the end it was he, Severus, who had initiated the first kiss. No doubt he had been in shock that night over the attempted abduction. But it didn’t matter why, all that mattered was that it happened — finally. And now, here he was with this dilemma on his hands. 

Could he set aside his conviction that one simply did not have an affair with a student? No, he couldn’t, nor could he ignore the promise he had made or the cold hard truth that Harry’s life continually hung upon a slender, precarious thread. One slip up, one wrong decision and that life, that person who loved Severus, the only person Severus had ever loved would be gone, forever. 

So again — what to do? 

Severus set down his glass and rested his chin upon the tips of his steepled his fingers. 

The door to their physical relations had been opened. Their mutual need could not wait any longer, but until Harry finished school there would have to be a limit. He would have to hold this wanting, green eyed wizard at bay for the next few months; and wouldn’t that be a delightfully tantalizing challenge to undertake? 

~~~~~SH~~~~~ 

Remus slid the last book into place and turned to cast an appraising eye at his office. It was glaringly sparse as he didn’t have many belongings. The important thing was that the classroom was ready. The students would be returning from their holiday break the next day, Sunday, and then classes would resume Monday. 

Truth be told, Remus was excited. He loved to teach and he loved the sense of belonging he felt being around the students and living at Hogwarts. He and Dumbledore had worked out a plan to deal with his lycanthropy. Everything was in order, or at least nearly in order; he was still at a loss over how to rectify things with Harry. 

The distance between them was his fault and he knew it. All Harry’s life, Remus had been running away: from his affliction, from his failures and his losses. He’d never been there for Harry; except well, perhaps during his third year. He treasured those weeks with the boy and he wished they could have had more time together. It had been too good to last and in the end he had very nearly killed Harry, and he would have if it hadn’t been for Severus and Sirius … Sirius. 

Remus shook his head to clear away the memory of Sirius. He couldn’t allow himself to start thinking about him. That was then and this was now. No doubt Harry despised Remus for his continued absence, but perhaps it might not be too late to make it up to him. 

~~~~~SH~~~~~ 

It was Sunday morning and time for Arthur to take Ron and Ginny to London and Kings Cross Station. They would be returning with all the other students on the Hogwarts Express, but Harry, who had supposedly spent the Holiday break in the infirmary, would return to the castle via the Floo. 

“Why can’t we just Floo back with Harry?” argued Ron. 

“You know why son,” countered Arthur. “This is all part of the dodge. You and Ginny have to play your part. We’ve nearly succeeded in pulling this off. If we can prove to Dumbledore that Harry is safe here, then perhaps he’ll let Harry come for Easter as well.” 

The prospect of Harry being able to come once more quelled any further argument. 

After they left, Harry gathered his things and moved to stand in front of the Floo. “Well, I guess it’s my turn.” 

“Have all your things?” 

“Yeah Mrs. Weasley, I’m all set.” 

She stepped up to him and gave him a big hug. “You’ll remember what I said now, won’t you?” 

"I’ll remember, I promise.” He reached around her ample waist and gave her a quick little hug then stepped back feeling a tad awkward, “Well, bye.” 

"Bye-bye, Harry dear. Good luck on your NEWTs.” 

“Oh yeah, they’re just a month away.” 

“Study hard.” 

“I will, bye.” 

He smiled briefly, grabbed a handful of powder and threw it into the Floo. “Albus Dumbledore’s office.” 

~~~~~SH~~~~~ 

Harry actually stepped out of Dumbledore’s Floo rather than falling, thanks to a bit of advice from Severus. _Try focusing your sight on one spot._

He had planned on hightailing it straight to Gryffindor tower to fetch his Marauder’s Map and look to see if Severus had returned yet, but his plans were quickly squashed. 

“Harry my boy,” called out a delighted Dumbledore. “How was your holiday at the Burrow?” 

“Brilliant, Sir.” Harry responded as he headed for the door. “Thank you.” 

“Might you have time for a cup of tea?” 

“I … uh …” 

“Splendid, come have a seat.” 

Two cups of tea and half a dozen biscuits later, Harry had told the Headmaster all about his time at the Burrow. Madame Pomfrey popped in to check on his shoulder and gave the all clear for him to resume classes and Quidditch practice. Dumbledore relayed the news that Professor Lupin had invited Harry to rejoin his Defense Against the Dark Arts class, promising to help him prepare for his upcoming NEWTs. 

“What do you think, Sir?” asked Harry — stunned. 

“I believe I should be asking that question of you, Harry.” 

“Well, it would be nice to rejoin my classmates.” What Harry was really thinking was that he would prefer dealing with Remus in a classroom setting, rather than one-on-one training. “But what about my training with Professor Snape?” 

“You may still continue with that.” 

“Well, okay then,” Harry sighed in relief. “Is there anything else, Sir? I kind of need to go check on Hedwig.” 

“No, that was all.” Dumbledore stood up, “I am happy that you enjoyed your holidays.” 

“Yeah, me too. Thank you, Sir.” Harry nodded his goodbyes then headed out the door and down the stairs. This unexpected chat had taken a substantial bite out of the day and had left Harry anxious that the Hogwarts Express might arrive before he could finish his visit with Severus. 

He ran all the way to the boys' dorm, pulled the map out of his trunk and began searching for Severus' footsteps. Sure enough, there he was in the potions lab, but he wasn't alone. 

Harry drew in a sharp breath when he read the name over the second set of footprints positioned next to Severus': Remus Lupin. 

~~~~~SH~~~~~ 

Hidden beneath his Invisibility Cloak, Harry slunk quietly along the dungeon corridor. He had to plaster himself against the wall when two third year Slytherins, whom had stayed during the holiday break, came around the corner and nearly ran smack dab into him. 

He stayed perfectly still until the echo of their footsteps faded away, then continued with caution toward the potions lab. 

When he reached the laboratory door, he pressed his ear up against the cool, worn wood, expecting to hear quarreling voices. But all he heard was silence. _Huh._ He was about to try again when suddenly the doorknob began to rattle. 

Harry jumped to the side and once again pressed himself flat against the wall then watched Remus, holding a rather large vial, exit the lab. 

He stopped a few feet away from the door, turned his head slightly — and sniffed. 

Harry’s eyes widened and his heart began to pound against his chest. _Stay calm … stay calm …_

Slowly, Remus turned to face what appeared to be an empty corridor. 

The pregnant silence passed with an agonizing slowness. Eventually Remus lowered his gaze but continued to hold his position. He seemed to be thinking about something, deciding what to do. After what seemed like an eternity, Remus turned back slowly and proceeded down the hallway. 

Harry held his breath until he heard Remus mount the stairs, then he slid down the wall and exhaled an exhausted sigh of relief. “God, that was close.” 

It took a few moments for his legs to stop shaking, and as soon as he could manage it Harry pushed himself back up and staggered toward the lab. He fell into the room, shut the door behind him and added a ward for good measure. 

Hearing the door once again, Severus thought that Remus had returned. “In all that Merlin holds dear, what is it you want now Lupin?” 

The sound of Severus’ voice and the ring of his acerbity washed over Harry like a balm, and the trembling in his legs was replaced with a fluttery sensation in his groin. He pulled off the cloak and walked to the office. 

Severus was busy putting away jars of ingredients. He slammed the lid on a jar of Wolfsbane when he heard the sound of a person, whom he thought was Remus, stepping inside the doorway. 

“Did you forget …” Severus stopped midsentence when he turned and saw who it was. 

Harry looked slightly pale, but there was a pink flush to his cheeks and his emerald eyes nearly glowed with intensity. “Harry,” he whispered. “I thought you were …” 

“I know,” Harry finished the sentence as he began to walk toward the stunned wizard. He kept his eyes locked on the ebony ones and his breaths came more quickly as each step brought them closer. “I missed you, Sev.” 

“Yes, I … I felt …” 

Harry reached Severus and leaned into the man, wrapping his arms around that delicious ivory neck. 

“Me too,” was all the eloquent Severus Snape could manage before Harry pulled that mouth down to his and kissed him soundly. 

Severus wrapped his arms around Harry and gathered him close. As he deepened the kiss, he purged away that terrible longing ache that had plagued him all those long hours and days spent apart. Nothing existed now but the press of Harry’s need, the taste of his mouth, the feel of his tongue and hardness of his cock. 

For Harry it was the same. Everything felt right, now that he was here, wrapped in Sev’s arms. The feeling that had swept over him the night he snuck out of the infirmary, enveloped him once again. It was as if he were starving and desperately had to have every inch of Severus. 

He pulled away the piece of leather holding Sev’s long black hair and ran his fingers though the silky thick strands, as his knee sort of traveled up between those endlessly long thighs. 

Severus cupped one hand under the curve of Harry’s arse, pulling him even closer, helping his knee find its intended target. Everything started to swirl when Harry began rubbing his knee up and down on Sev’s aching cock. 

He felt Harry take his hand and the next thing he knew, his hand was wrapped around Harry’s own wanting length. 

Reality came rushing back and hit Severus like a salty wave from the sea. He sucked in a great lungful of air, “No,” he barely managed to utter as he grabbed Harry’s searching hands and stepped away. 

“Sev,” Harry panted, “take me, please.” He was reaching up, still trying to kiss Severus. 

Severus captured Harry, wrapping one of his long arms around that lithe torso, then very carefully he used his free hand to close the buttons on those well worn, low riding jeans. 

“Sev, what are you doing?” 

“We have to talk.” 

“What … Now? No Sev, please.” 

“Yes, now.” 

“But…” 

Severus stepped further back as he held onto each of Harry’s arms. “You must understand my position.” 

Harry's eyes flared with anger. "You’re not going to start that again! You promised you wouldn’t deny this!” 

“I’m not denying it!” Severus countered, his baritone voice winning out over Harry’s tenor. “But we have to set limits.” 

Harry froze upon hearing that threatening word, “What do you mean by — limits?” 

“What I mean,” Severus sounded out each word adamantly as he was having just as hard a time right now as was Harry, “is that even though we’re now …” he tipped his head to the side. 

“Yeah, yeah. I know what you’re saying. We’re physical now with each other.” 

“Yes, as you so bluntly put it — we’re physical with each other; I am still you’re teacher and I refuse to have sexual relations with a student.” 

“You can’t possibly mean that. Besides, I’ve reached majority.”

“But you are still a student.”

Harry was fit to be tied. “How come you get to make all the rules?” he shouted. 

Severus released Harry’s arms then walked over and leaned against the long sideboard. “I told you last year, this would be difficult.” 

“But you never said anything about rules.” 

“No, as I recall — I said I wouldn’t have relations with a student.” 

He had Harry on that one. 

The frustrated young wizard took a couple of deep breaths, trying to quell his anger. “So what are you saying? That we have to set limits or that’s it?” 

“It’s not as cut and dry as that.” Severus crossed his arms tightly across his chest. His hardness had softened in the heat of the moment, as no doubt had Harry’s. 

Harry let out a huff and slumped into Severus’s desk chair. He couldn’t deny that he had pleaded with Severus last year to give him a chance, promising that he wouldn’t jump into bed with someone else as soon as things got tough. 

Severus had been very clear about his position on having relations with a student and Harry had to admit that he'd continually pressured Severus, time and time again. 

“All right Sev,” his soft tone of voice reflected his defeat. “We’ll do whatever you say.” He looked up with determination, “because I refuse to give up on us.” 

Severus visibly relaxed in response to Harry’s words of commitment. He released a shaky sigh, walked over and knelt down, taking a hold of the upset teen's hand. “Kissing is okay, so is touching — but nothing else. And clothes – stay – on.” 

Harry tightened his grip around the potion stained fingers. “That’s going to be awfully hard.” He stared into Severus’ dark eyes; they weren’t hiding any secrets today — only his clear determination. “Okay, I’ll do it. But after I graduate, all limits are off.” 

Severus raised his eyebrow intriguingly, “I’ll hold you to that, Mr. Potter.” 

 

~~~~~SH~~~~~ 

 

 

 

 

.


	34. The Ties That Bind

  
Author's notes: Sorry for the delay in posting; RL has been very busy for both Steppenwolf and myself. Speaking of Steppenwolf, he is absolutely the best: great editing with timely returns but even more, he is honest. He calls me on it when an area in a chapter is lacking or if a character is off-- I am so lucky and have learned so much from him. Thank you Steppenwolf.  
All rights belong to JKR, Scholastic and Bloomsbury- just playing.  


* * *

34\. The Ties That Bind 

 

Harry was about to give the password when The Portrait of the Fat Lady swung open necessitating him to jump quickly out of the way.

“Hi’ya Harry.”

“Oh, Hi Neville. Good Holiday?”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Harry nearly kicked himself for forgetting that Neville and his Gran always spent Christmas in the Long Term Ward at St. Mungos. 

But instead of a forlorn look, Neville beamed, “Yeah, it was great.”

“It was?” Harry asked incredulously.

“Yeah. Luna and her Dad came for the holidays. My Gran and Mr. Lovegood hit it off really well. We went around London to see all the decorations, then on Christmas Day we went and visited my folks …” he paused and looked earnestly at Harry. “Luna is so amazing.”

“Why? What did she do?” 

“You’ve seen my folks … you know what it’s like.”

“Yeah, I know,” Harry said softly.

“But none of that bothered Luna … or her Dad. They chatted with my parents like they were normal folks. It didn’t matter to them that they were the only ones doing the talking.”

“Wow.” Then it dawned on Harry that Neville’s demeanor had changed somehow. Instead of vulnerable and unassured, he now exuded an easy manner and an air of self confidence.

“We took turns,” Neville continued. “Gran and Mr. Lovegood talked to my Dad while Luna and I stayed with my Mum, then we switched. You know, Luna is always kind of in her own world anyway, so I think somehow she can relate to my Mum …” He quirked his face, knowing that perhaps his explanation was lacking.

“Don’t worry, I understand what you’re trying to say. I’m happy it all worked out so well.”

“Hallo,” Luna said in her singsong voice as she approached the two wizards. She wrapped her arm around Neville as he leaned down and gave her a sweet kiss.

“Hi Luna. I hear you had a good Holiday.”

“Oh yes, London is marvelous in snow, and Neville’s parents are an absolute delight. And Mrs. Longbottom’s hat … have you ever seen it Harry?” she continued on enthusiastically.

“Uh …” the memory of the Boggart imitating Severus dressed in Mrs. Longbottom’s clothes immediately sprang into mind. Harry was still rather upset with Severus; he’d only just returned from the ‘clothes stay on’ discussion.

Neville saw the look on Harry’s face and came to his rescue. “Come on Luna, let’s go down to dinner; I’m starving.”

“Oh, all right.” She turned her protuberant silvery gray eyes on Harry, “Would you care to join us?”

“Uh … no; I have some things I gotta do.” _Like jack off in the shower._ His rendezvous with Sev hadn’t turned out as he’d planned.

Harry watched the two lovebirds head off, arm in arm, down the hallway and felt suddenly envious of them. They didn’t have to hide the fact that they were in a relationship, he knew they were doing _it_ and on top of all of that — they seemed to be really good for each other.

He turned back to the portrait, “Moonstone.” _Are Sev and I good for each other? Doesn’t matter if we are or we aren’t — I can’t do anything about the way I feel,_ he pondered all of this as he crossed the common room; it was fairly empty as no doubt most everyone had gone on down for their dinner. _Maybe I will take a shower._

But when he got to his dorm room, there was a tie hanging on the door knob. _Not again._

“Hey listen, who’s ever in there, I need to get my …”

The door flung open to the sight of a thoroughly disheveled Hermione. “Harry!” she squealed and wrapped him in a big hug.

He cringed backward, “Mione — you’re blouse.”

“Oops,” she did up the top couple of buttons as Harry made a beeline for his trunk to stow away his cloak.

“Where the hell have you been?” asked Ron, just getting up off his bed. “We looked for you.”

“I … uh … had a meeting with the Headmaster.”

“You did? But he was down front greeting everyone as they came in from the carriages.”

Harry froze, so did Hermione. She had noticed that his lips were a little swollen and knew immediately where he’d been and what he’d been doing.

“Um … I meant — a meeting with Remus.”

Hermione stared piercingly at him and shook her head ever so slightly.

Ron’s expression grew hard. “Why are you lying?”

“I’m not lying.”

“Harry,” Hermione’s voice sounded his defeat, “Remus was standing right next to the Headmaster.”

Harry shuffled awkwardly, not knowing what to say. 

“Do you think I’m stupid or something?” Ron’s cheeks were getting flushed — always a bad sign.

“I never said that. Just because …”

“No, you never say anything!” Ron shouted. “You sneak off during the night and in the afternoons; you disappear for hours at a time and when I ask where you’ve gone — you lie.”

“That’s not true!” Harry yelled back.

“It is so! It’s bad enough that you’re keeping secrets from us; then you go and make it worse by lying!

Ron stomped out of the room and slammed the door behind him, causing a couple of the prints to fall off the wall and Neville’s Mimbulus Mimbletonia to teeter off his nightstand; the terra cotta pot shattered when it hit the floor.

“God damnit!”

“Knock it off, Harry!” scolded Hermione as she went over to repair the pot.

Harry went over and flopped down on his bed. “Everything is getting so complicated; I don’t know what to do anymore.”

After repairing the pot, she inspected the odd little plant; it seemed none the worse for wear so she returned both to the nightstand and went over to sit next to her upset friend. “Don’t you think it’s time you tell Ron the truth? He’s your best friend; you can’t keep something this important from him. Look what it’s doing to the two of you.”

“I wish I could, but you know how he is … that temper of his. He’d probably march right down and try and hex Severus, or something worse.”

“There must be some way,” she got that focused look on her face that always meant trouble.

“Hermione?” Harry sat up, suddenly worried. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m trying to come up with a solution to resolve this mess between you and Ron.”

“Well, don’t. I’ll deal with it on my own.”

“And a fine job you’ve done of it so far.” She returned to her pondering and Harry flopped back down on his pillows, knowing he was done for.

~~~~~SH~~~~~ 

Harry hovered on the periphery of students gathered around Remus as they warmly greeted their most favorite Defense teacher. The first DADA class of the Spring semester had just finished and despite the pop quiz he’d given them, they were all delighted at his unexpected return. After all, he had arguably been the best Defense teacher they'd had during their seven year tenure at Hogwarts. 

"The skills portion is only half of the test," he had reminded the seventh years regarding their fast approaching NEWTs. "The purpose of today's exam is to let me see how well you know the material and which areas need attention. On Thursday we will begin reviewing the skills portion." 

Harry watched the relaxed banter between Remus and the teens; the easy comradery was in complete opposition to what he'd been experiencing ever since their awkward encounter in front of the potions lab the previous afternoon. He had intentionally not told Severus about the unexpected convergence, fearing it would have just started another arguement. The "clothes stay on" discussion had been bad enough and it seemed as though he was about to have another difficult conversation, this time with Remus. 

The hazel eyes fell upon him for a brief second. Next thing Harry knew, Remus was bidding farewell to the throng of students whom then filed out of the classroom. 

They stood facing each other for a long silent moment. "Thank you for staying," Remus finally said. 

"Sure." 

"I wish we could have spoken sooner ..." 

Harry just bit his lips. 

"How are you feeling?" Remus tipped his head and looked toward Harry's shoulder. 

"Oh that. It's fine." 

Remus shifted uncomfortably, "I'm sorry that happened to you; it must have been a horrific experience ..." 

"Yeah, I wouldn't recommend Portkeying into wards." Harry forced a swallow. 

"Of course not." Another fatly quiet moment ensued. "I'm glad you agreed to rejoin the class," he rallied. 

"Yeah me too, except I don't know how well I did on today's test; I haven't really been spending too much time on the written material ... just the skills." 

"I won't be scoring today's test, I just need the results as a basis of reference."   
Harry nodded silently. The chasm between them, which had grown slowly over the years, had clearly reached a pinnacle. As much as Remus wanted to reach out to Harry, he felt terribly teathered by the rejection that had taken place only twenty four hours previously when the teen had knowingly stood before him under his Invisibility Cloak, and had simply waited for him to — go away.

But Harry was James's son, Sirius' godchild and as much as Remus was hobbled by his own challenges, he did care about the young man and wished with all his heart that things could be different between them. "Is everything all right Harry?" 

_Here it is. I knew he'd bring it up._

No, everything wasn't all right: he'd almost just been kidnapped, his NEWTs were in a couple of weeks and he'd recently been caught out trying to sneak in to have a snog with one of his professors. The persistant voice of guilt for the deaths and injuries that had befallen those who got close to him, still harbored a spot in his heart and it told him that Remus held resentment toward him for his stupid mistake that had led to Sirius' death. And the fact that Remus was standing here after months of absense, suddenly concerned about Harry's wellbeing didn't make any sense whatsoever. So no, everything wasn't all right. "Yeah, everything is fine." 

Another rejection made worse now by an outright lie.

Remus forced a supportive smile. "Well, if you ever need to talk to someone, please know that I'm ... available." 

Harry's heart nearly stopped at hearing those words. That was exactly what Anthony had said to him, so long ago, that day they had sat on the bench in the boys’ locker room. It suddenly seemed very hard to take a breath. "Okay, I'll remember." He shifted about uncomfortably, "I uh ... need to get going." 

"Oh all right. Well I'll ... see you later then." 

"Yeah … see ya." 

Harry grabbed his bag and headed for the door, wanting — no, needing to get out of the room as quickly as possible. Ron and Hermione were waiting on the other side. 

"So how did it go?"

Their query was greeted with the back of Harry’s robe as he sprinted past them and headed for the stairs.   
The two of them caught up with him by the time he’d reached the sixth floor. Hermione grabbed onto his sleeve — then didn’t let go. "Harry, what happened?” 

“Mione, let go.”

“No.”

“Please.”

“I will if you turn around and look at me.”

Harry sighed then turned but kept his gaze lowered.

She let go of his sleeve, “Listen Harry … are we or are we not your best friends?”

“That’s not the point …”

“Isn’t it?” She cast a Muffliato around the three of them. “You keep distancing yourself.”

“You know why.” Harry shot a glance at Ron. 

“What’s that all about?” Ron was still upset from the row they’d had the evening before. “What the hell did I ever do to you?”

“Nothing. You haven’t done a thing,” Hermione defended him then returned her attention back to Harry. “Please, you have to tell him.” 

“But I can’t,” his whispered voice was edged with panic. “You know I can’t.” 

She went to take his hand but he pulled back. “Listen Harry,” she remained undaunted, “I’ve been giving this situation a lot of thought and I’ve come up with a solution that I think will work. Come with me.” 

~~~~~SH~~~~~ 

"We need a place to talk." 

The trio entered the Room of Requirement and stopped in their tracks at the sight that greeted them. No doubt the room had picked up on the desperate timbre of Hermione’s voice and it had responded in turn by creating the most welcoming, teen friendly sitting room it could manage. There was a large fireplace with a crackling fire, a thick fuzzy rug and dozens of squishy pillows. The young witch added extra security and silencing charms — just to be safe, and the three of them walked over and sank down on the cushions.

“Sounds like you already know what’s going on Mione,” Ron’s hurt feelings laced his accusation.

“I do, but it’s only because I guessed what was going on … months ago.”

The expression on Ron’s face turned from one of hurt, to one of accusation. “And you didn’t tell me this … little secret?”

“It’s _not_ a little secret.” Harry’s jaw was hard set. He was about to explain how people’s lives were at risk, but before he could do so —

“Harry has a valid reason for keeping all of this a secret,” Hermione stated emphatically, “but his doing so is affecting your friendship — and the two of you are so bullheaded!” Her voice heightened, “You’d stupidly let things go on the way they have been and do nothing about it!”

Her statement struck a chord for each wizard. Harry had watched his friendship with Ron change to a superficial level: Quidditch and classes, anything more and he’d continually had to lie in order to protect Severus and keep their relationship a secret.

Ron knew that things had changed between them and the way he had dealt with it was to _not_ deal with it. But it ate at him. Jokes and lighthearted conversation could only go so far. “So what’s your plan?” 

She pulled herself up ramrod straight and looked Ron square in the eye, “the Unbreakable Vow.”

Ron was speechless — for just a second. “Are you barmy?”

“That’s a brilliant idea Hermione!” Harry felt like a ton of bricks had just been lifted off his shoulders.

“You’re both barmy,” Ron declared. “Why is it that she can know your secret outright, but I have to make the Unbreakable Vow?”

“Because you’re going to have a really hard time knowing the truth … that’s why,” Harry said flatly. 

Ron was fit to be tied. All of this to save a friendship? It seemed so unfair. And to make the Unbreakable Vow — he’d never done anything like that before in his life. But on second thought, perhaps he had. 

He could have died flying on a Thestral when he’d accompanied Harry to the Ministry two summers ago, in fact, he almost had died from that brain tentacle thing. If he had it to do over again would he have chosen not to go? No, of course he would have gone — just as he had chosen to stand by Harry’s side time and time again. They were best mates and Ron would do anything for Harry.

His posture relaxed as he realized and accepted the truth. “All right, I’ll do it.”

The fact that Ron was knowingly willing to put his life on the line for his and Harry’s friendship was a huge declaration that nearly left Harry speechless. “I, um ... thanks.”

Ron had to look away, “Let’s just get on with it.”

“All right then,” Hermione’s voice broke the heartfelt moment. “I’ll be the Bonder.”

Ron and Harry scooted closer and paused to look at each other. The significance of what they were about to undertake stared them back in the face as they grasped a hold of each other’s hand.

Hermione placed the tip of her wand upon their linked hands, “Okay Harry, there must be thee separated terms.”

“Three? Are you sure?” He gasped. “But I only need one.”

“Yes, I’m certain — there have to be three. Now, go ahead.”

He knew exactly what the first term had to be, but even so, Harry’s voice shook as he spoke, “Will you Ron, keep what I am about to tell you, a secret?”

“I … I will.”

A strand of fire emerged from Hermione’s wand and began wrapping itself around their joined hands.

“And will you, even though it’s hard, will you try to be supportive?”

Ron didn’t like the sound of that one, since he didn’t know to what it was he was agreeing to be supportive of, “I will.”

A second tendril of red shot from her wand and entwined itself with the first.

Now Harry had to think. Okay, Ron had agreed to stay silent and be supportive. What else could he ask, in all fairness of his friend? “And if you can’t understand the decision I’ve made, will you ask Hermione to try and explain it to you?”

At first, Ron’s jaw dropped and then he rolled his eyes at the request Harry had just made. “I will,” he grumbled.

All three watched in wonder as the third and final glowing filament burst forth and joined the first two to make the joined strand a thick, fiery bond.

After a brief time, the carmine rope disappeared leaving Harry and Ron staring at their clasped hands.

They quickly let go and shifted backward on their pillows.

“Now what?” asked Harry, feeling suddenly very awkward.

“Now you tell me what the big secret is, you dolt.”

“Right. Okay, here it is.” He folded his arms in front of him, but that must have looked too vulnerable for both his friends suddenly stared at his arms. He dropped them to his lap and took a deep breath. “I’m in a relationship.”

Ron stared — then gaped. “That’s it? That’s why I signed my life away?”

The mega silence that greeted him pointed out that he was obviously missing something. “Okay, so … who’s the lucky guy?”

Hermione, for what must have been the fourth time in one day — bit her lips, and then slid her eyes over to Harry’s side of the court.

“S …” Harry blew out a deep breath through pursed lips, forced down a very dry swallow then looked his old friend in the eyes, “It’s Severus.”

“Severus who?” Then it hit him and Ron’s eyes grew unbelievably wide. “Snape? You’re seeing … Snape?”

Ron got up and began to pace around the room. “I don’t believe it. You’ve lost your mind! How could you possibly be attracted to that greasy …?”

He stopped suddenly and gasped as he clutched at his chest.

“Oh God, what have I done?” Harry jumped up and ran to his side. Hermione was there before him.

“Ron, you must try to understand. Do it now before it’s too late!”

“But I don’t! I can’t!” He dropped to his knees and grimaced in pain.

Hermione nearly throttled Harry in her desperation. “Explain it to him!” Her voice was shrill. “Hurry!”

His teenage insecurities completely forgotten, Harry grabbed a hold of Ron’s shoulders and pushed him up. “He knows me better than anyone else … the same as I know him. I know all of his secrets and all of his weaknesses and he knows the same about me. Please Ron, you’ve got to try and understand!”

Harry didn’t realize it, but tears had started to run down his cheeks. “He’s so smart about all kinds of stuff, and he’s funny and …” Harry managed to stop himself before he extolled Severus’ physical attributes. 

Ron grimaced spurring Harry to give him a couple of good, hard shakes, “I love him!” He shook Ron again, “Do you hear me? I love him ... and he loves me!” 

The pain ended as quickly as it had begun. Ron gasped a sudden breath of relief and then collapsed onto his back.

“Ron!” Hermione shrieked as Harry stared on in horror, the memory of Sirius falling through the veil shot across his mind. 

“I’m okay, Ron panted. “Just give me a second ... to catch my breath.”

They hovered over the redhead, worried and anxious. But soon enough, he reached up and pulled Hermione down to lay next to him. “I’m okay. Really … I’m okay.”

Harry fell back on his seat. “That was too close. You have to promise not to do that again,” Harry said desperately. “You can’t die … you can’t.”

“Believe me,” Ron managed between gulps of air, “I’m with you ... on that one, mate.”

Hermione started to cry and Ron pulled her close. It was a private moment for the two of them, so Harry moved to sit over by the fire.

He leaned against the hearth and tucked his legs close to him. He wanted Severus, wanted to feel his strength and assuredness, wanted to be held and kissed — but Sev was at the Fastness tonight, just as he was most nights.

By the time Ron had recovered enough to sit up, nearly twenty minutes had passed. He saw Harry sitting next to the hearth, his arms were wrapped around his legs and he was staring at the embers with a glazed expression. The tears from earlier on had dried upon his cheeks.

Ron and Hermione moved over and sat down next him.

“Are you okay Ron?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. You?”

Harry shook his head. “I think we made a mistake … making that vow.”

“No Harry, listen ...” 

“You almost died Ron. None of this is worth that.”

Ron reached out and gently cupped his friend’s shoulder; something previously unimaginable was now an easy thing after the intensity of the Unbreakable Vow. “I was angry at you for not trusting me ...”

“It’s not that I think you can’t keep a secret, it’s just that ...”

“I know what you’re going to say — that when I lose my temper, sometimes I don’t make the best decisions.” He peaked his eyebrows, “Right?”

Harry sagged, “Yeah.”

“I admit I don’t get it — you and Snape,” then Ron took a hold of Harry’s other shoulder and turned him so that they once again faced each other. “But I’m your mate, and I’ll do my best to try and understand.”

Harry gulped down a reluctant swallow, “There really is more to him then he lets people see,” his words bounced along his shaky voice. “But he wouldn’t want me to talk about him.”

“That’s okay. If you say he’s a good bloke, then that’s good enough for me.”

Hermione watched these two young men who she loved with all of her heart, and patiently shook her head. “Boys.”

 

~~~~~SH~~~~~


	35. Redemption

  
Author's notes: A twist of fate brings a new understanding between Severus and Remus.  
My thanks to Steppenwolf for his fabulous editing and treasured honesty and advice.  
All rights belong to JKR and the gang.

* * *

12\. Redemption

 

“Oh, oh …”

“Oh, oh what?” Ron leaned over to inspect Hermione’s copy of The Daily Prophet, thinking that her comment was in reference to an article. “Don’t tell me You Know Who has started blowing up Embassies again.”

“No, it’s nothing like that.” She pointed down the aisle between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables. “Look at Harry.”

Ron leaned back on the bench to get a better view and saw Harry walking towards him with a hard set expression.

“His meeting with the Headmaster must not have gone well; I wonder what he said to him?”

“We’ll find out soon enough,” Ron replied as he moved over quickly.

Harry squeezed in between his two best friends and let out a huff.

Everyone sitting nearby looked on with curiosity. Neville poured him a cup of tea, “Here Harry, have some of this.”

“Thanks Nev …” He took a sip then set the cup down so hard that it landed with a _thud._

“So … ah, what did the Headmaster want?” asked Ron a tad cautiously.

“They want to hold a graduation ceremony this year,” Harry replied, staring at his drink.

“What … for us?” asked Ron.

“Yyyyeeepppp.” The way Harry said it, he made the word sound as if it had three syllables.

Ron shrugged his shoulders. “I wonder why they want to do one this year?”

“I imagine it’s because _Harry_ is graduating,” Hermione reasoned. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

Harry bit his lips and nodded. “It’s the Minister’s idea. He’s gonna be there and have the press come and do a big article and take pictures.”

“I can just see the headlines,” Ron raised his hand and moved it in a slow arc. “BOY WHO LIVED FINISHES HOGWARTS- NOW READY TO TAKE ON ‘YOU KNOW WHO’.”

“That’s not the worst part.”

“What could be worse than that?” asked Ginny with a grimace.

“I have to give a speech,” Harry said, feeling a tad nauseous, “titled ‘Grasping the Future’.”

Now everyone grimaced, all save for Hermione.

“Oh, I think this is a marvelous idea.”

“Have you gone mental?” Harry stared at her in disbelief.

“No, think of it, everyone reading your words about determination and not giving in to Voldemort.”

The several individuals who had been listening in on the conversation cringed in unison.

“It would be an inspiration,” she finished encouragingly.

“But Mione, I’ve never done anything like that … given a speech. Getting up and talking to a crowd of people … I don’t know. Besides, what am I gonna say?”

“I’ll help you write it, if you want.”

Walking down from the Headmaster’s Tower, Harry had thought about approaching Hermione for help with the speech, but the fact that she had offered saved him the embarrassment of asking, “You will?”

“Of course, silly.”

“All right then,” Harry sighed with relief and he felt, for the first time since he’d been given the daunting task, as though he could finally take a breath. “Thanks Mione.”

“Just leave it to me,” she got that look on her face as she conjured a piece of paper and began the outline of topics. “Let’s see, we should open with …”

“You’re going to have to save that for later,” interrupted Ron as he tossed a piece of toast and some bangers onto Harry’s plate.

“Why?” asked Hermione.

Ron nodded to the swarm of students leaving the Great Hall. “The match is gonna start in less than an hour and I want t’get good seats.”

The match between Hufflepuff and Slytherin was the second to last in the Quidditch series. As things stood, Gryffindor and Slytherin were nearly neck and neck in points, so a Hufflepuff win would work to Gryffindor’s advantage. And aside from the needed points, everyone was looking forward to this match after the intensity of the OWLS and NEWTs. With the end of year exams less than a month away, this Saturday of Quidditch was just the respite the students needed.

“Oh, you’re right,” she vanished the paper. “Bring that with you Harry; Ron’s right, we need to get going.”

“That’s okay, I’m not hungry.” He rose from off the bench to join Ron, leaving his food untouched. But, knowing that Harry’s hunger would probably catch up with him sometime during the match, Hermione shrank the food and put it in her purse to bring with her.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

A thermal of warm air rose up the side of the castle and brushed past Remus’ face, mussing his hair as he leaned his head out the open window to watch the throng of students making their way down to the pitch.

He would have enjoyed attending the match; not only was the close point count making this year’s series a thrilling one, but perhaps the events of the match might afford light topics of conversation for he and Harry to discuss.

It was May and in the past four months, Remus had made very little headway with regards to Harry. Soon the year would be over and the young wizard would move on with his adult life; what chance would Remus have then to bridge the cavernous gap that had grown between them.

“Ready Professor?” Hagrid’s booming voice startled Remus from his thoughts.

“Not quite,” he closed the window then brushed back his hair. “Please come in, I’ll be ready in a moment.”

The half-giant squeezed through the doorway. 

“My apologies, I was lost in thought,” Remus offered as he walked over and took up the goblet containing the Wolfsbane potion, the characteristic blue smoke wafting inches above the rim.

“Don’t you never mind. I’m in no hurry,” Hagrid said cheerily. “Fang is right happy tis full moon t’night. He enjoys yer company, he does.”

Remus giggled lightly, “And I his.” He drank the potion then set down the goblet. “I want to thank you again, for taking me in and watching over me when …”

“Now, now Professor … don’t yuh nev’r mind. Yer right behaved when yuh take that potion, no problem at’ll. 

“Well, at least there’s that,” he answered with a halfhearted grin. “I suppose I’m ready to go now.”

“Then let’s git to er’,” Hagrid offered optimistically.

The two wizards exited the castle and made their way towards the stone cabin.

It had been Dumbledore’s idea for Remus to spend full moons with Hagrid and Fang. As long as he took the Wolfsbane potion, he was able to retain his intelligence while in his werewolf form and needed only a safe place to stay where he wouldn’t feel threatened.

Hagrid and Lupin had started to descend the steps cut into the hillside, when they heard a roar of cheers rise up from the crowd-filled distant pitch.

“Rubius, you’re close to Harry … aren’t you?”

“Oh yeah,” he replied with his booming voice. “But I don’t see him as much as when he were a young’n. Guess he’s busy with this n’ that,” he finished a tad wistfully.

“I’m afraid I …” Remus’ voice trailed off.

“Go on,” Hagrid encouraged. 

“I have trouble communicating with him. I don’t know where to start.”

When they had reached the cottage, Hagrid opened the door for Lupin to enter. Fang immediately came bounding over and nearly knocked Remus off his feet.

“Hello Fang,” he said softly.

“Av’ a seat there n’ I’ll make us some tea, then we’ll av’ ourselves a nice chat.” Hagrid placed the kettle on the stove, “Y’ shouldn’t worry so much Professor; them teenagers … their just a hard lot t’figure out.”

~~~~~SH~~~~~

Severus levitated the last cauldron into the cupboard then looked about the lab. All seemed to be in order.

The special request from the Dark Lord had required an entire night of brewing and had now made the Head of House late for his duties at Hogwarts. The match between Slytherin and Hufflepuff was about to get underway and he was hard pressed to return to the castle as quickly as possible.

“Our Lord will see you now.”

The house elf’s squeaky voice surprised Snape and he turned with a start only just in time to see the small creature vanish.

“Now what can he want?” Severus sighed.

Moments later, he stood before the closed doors of the large reception hall. When they opened he began his bow but paused at the sight of Lucius Malfoy who, as he walked past, chanced a brief glance of warning; his focused expression and occluded mind were signals for Severus to be on his guard. 

“Do come in,” the Dark Lord’s silky voice glided across the vast hall. 

Severus took a brief moment to scan the room then lowered his sights and approached the dais. “My Lord called for me?”

Voldemort did not respond but instead stood in silence as he regarded the man kneeling before him.

In his vast army of Death Eaters, only a select handful had proven themselves worthy to be ranked at an elevated status, awarded assignments requiring intellect rather than brawn. The majority were relegated to the continual attacks against the Muggles and Mudbloods, while this small echelon carried out assignments of espionage, spying and intelligence.

Severus was among this elite group and his appointment of spying upon Dumbledore and Potter, Voldemort’s two worst enemies, put the statuesque wizard at an even higher designation, leaving him literally no margin for error in the performance of his duties. 

“Tell me Severus, if perhaps there is any bit of information you may have forgotten to report to me?”

Severus’s heart skipped a beat, “Regarding …?”

“Do not play games with me,” his tone of voice hinted at danger.

“I would never do such a thing. I am however, at a loss as to what my Lord is referring,” he kept his eyes fixed upon the floor.

Voldemort paced his approach, “Not what, but whom.”

Severus’ silence only irked the evil wizard.

“What is your mission, Death Eater.”

“To report to my Lord, matters dealing with Potter, Dumbledore and the Order.” Severus recited his assignment verbatim.

“Exactly.”

Severus searched his mind behind his wall of Occlusion. What was it the Dark Lord wanted? What had he overlooked? “If my Lord would only clarify …”

Before he could finish his sentence, a blast of pain ripped through Severus’ entire being. It was as if every part of him had suddenly been set on fire.

The pain lasted a few moments and then stopped suddenly, but somehow in that brief period of time Severus had been thrown to the opposite side of the room. He lay crumpled on his side, shaking uncontrollably. 

“I ask you once again, what news of Harry Potter have you not yet reported to me?”

So this was about Harry. But there was so much regarding the young wizard that was being kept secret: his enormous powers, his training, his visits to the Burrow and more. 

“Please my Lord,” Severus could barely get the words out, “I have … reported all valid information … regarding …”

“Stop!” Voldemort commanded. “You said _valid_ information.”

“Yes … my Lord,” Severus managed between his panting breaths.

Voldemort walked over and knelt down beside his crumpled servant, “Then I shall rephrase my question.” He reached out and slid his fingers down the length of Severus’ hair. “Is there any information regarding Harry Potter that that is not yet _validated_?”

In that instant, what had been many choices were now narrowed to one. “There are discussions … as to his … living arrangements … once he finishes school.”

Voldemort tightened his grip on the ebony length and pulled it to lift Severus’ face into view. “Continue,” he hissed.

Severus ground out the preliminaries regarding Scrimgeour’s plan of furnishing Harry with an apartment near Ministry Headquarters, protected by a Fidelius charm, for him to use while attending Auror School. 

“And you chose to withhold this information?” He abruptly let go of Severus’ hair then hit him with another round of the Cruciatus curse.

Severus lay writhing upon the floor in agony as Voldemort now began to stride about the room, livid over this monumental disappointment in one of his key servants. But he needed answers.

“Where is the location of this apartment?” he asked after abruptly ending the curse.

Even though the curse had ended, all of Severus’ nerves still felt as though they were on fire, a bonus gift from the Cruciatus. “There is no… preliminary … all conjecture,” he gasped for air. “Nothing decided. Potter does not want … refuses to … has other plans.”

“What other plans? Tell me now!”

But the Dark Lord would have to wait for his answer as Severus succumbed to the pain and lost consciousness. 

~~~~~SH~~~~~

_Oh some are fond of Spanish wine, and some are fond of French,  
And some’ll swallow tay and stuff fit only for a wench;_

Remus whined with exasperation as Fang placed a paw over the top of his head.

_But I’m for right Jamaica till I roll beneath the bench,  
Says the old, bold mate of Henry Morgan.**_

Hagrid tipped forward and hiccupped when his chair came down hard on the wooden planked floor.   
“Tis a right fine song,” another hiccup. “Ready fer another?”

Remus sat up, raised his muzzle to the air and howled in protest; Fang slunk off to hide behind the bed.

“All right, another un a comin up. But first I have to drain my lizard.”

The half giant staggered to the door, “Now you two be good ‘n don’t move till I get back.” He unlocked the padlock, pulled back the bolt then started down the few front steps. 

A clatter of noise drew the werewolf’s attention, and he padded over to investigate. Using his snout to push the door back open, he saw Hagrid sprawled on the grass with a smile upon his face — passed out cold.

Suddenly, a strange growling screech emanated from the nearby edge of the Forbidden Forest, followed by what sounded like a human cry.

He cast his canine eyes upon the area where he thought the sound had emanated and saw faint movements just past the tree line. 

Part of him, his human side knew he should stay right where he was, but the wolf felt challenged.

Fang crept out from around the corner of the bed and whined to his friend not to go.

But Remus snarled in response, telling the enormous dog to go back to the corner and mind his own business.

His curiosity peaked and the temptation too great to ignore, Remus trotted down the steps and then cantered off toward the Forbidden Forest.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

Severus barely recalled making his way to the reception room let alone Port Keying out of the Fastness, but his disgust left a marked impression when he arrived at the shack and saw Goyle sitting at the puny Guard’s desk.

“Hallo Professor. D’you need some help Apparating back to the castle?”

To be seen in such a state, by an individual with whom he held such contempt was intolerable; Severus drew up the little strength he had left, “Not if I wish to arrive in one piece.” Then he girded himself against the residual pain, turned and Apparated.

He knew his destination; his determination and deliberation were sincere, but unfortunately his strength was lacking and it caused Severus to wind up hundreds of yards shy of the front gates which placed him instead, several hundred feet inside the Forbidden Forest.

It was full moon this night, one month before the Spring Equinox and the creatures of the forest were roused and unquiet.

He lost his footing and fell. That old injury to the nerve in his leg had been aggravated by the Cruciatus, leaving his leg slightly numb and weak.

The mossy floor was cool against his aching body, luring to him to stay and rest. But he knew he couldn’t linger, he had to get out of there — now.

Against the protest of sore limbs and aching muscles, Severus pushed himself up to a standing position and began limping toward the castle. But from out of nowhere, a lone Bicorn appeared and blocked his path.

Severus tried reaching for his wand, but his arms and hands were trembling and disagreed vehemently to any focused movement. Before he could cast a spell, the creature charged him and took a bite as she passed, her razor sharp teeth easily tearing through the many layers of cloth.

Severus cried out in pain and fell back to the ground, inured and vincible.

The Bicorn gulped down the small morsel of food, then turned and screeched her call of attack.

Pawing the ground, she was just about to once again charge her prey when an enormous werewolf leapt out from between two trees. It landed on the panther-like creature, knocking her to the ground.

Through snarls and saliva, claws and fangs the two creatures battled as Severus watched the whirl of fury and fur from his haze of pain. He tried valiantly to stand, but could not and sank instead back onto the mossy ground, capable only of awaiting his fate.

The werewolf, driven by an unfocused purpose, fought tenaciously even though he himself was now wounded. He didn’t want to eat the human and yet at the same time, he knew that this creature couldn’t have this human either, so he clawed and battled for all he was worth.

A lucky bite tore open the Bicorn’s tender throat and blood gushed from the wound, covering her chest and coloring the ground in sheets of red. 

She staggered a few steps and then fell to the ground. Opening and closing her mouth, she tried to take a breath or perhaps she was trying to call out. But instead, her remaining air slipped from her throat as bubbles in the oozing, pooling blood. 

The werewolf watched with a sense of ambivalence as the beast squirmed upon the ground and then died. He felt no anger toward the creature, no rage, no desire to consume — there had only been that curious need to protect.

And then he remembered the human, and he turned and saw the man huddled upon the ground as though he were a helpless cub.

They looked upon each other — one in curiosity, the other in terror.

Snape stared up at the enormous wolf creature and, certain that his life was about to end, his thoughts flashed upon Harry and all they had not yet shared.

But then the werewolf did a curious thing.

He padded closer and stared down at Severus, not with animal fury in his eyes but with a sadness that reached out, begging for understanding.

And in that instant, looking back into those haunted hazel eyes, Severus felt as though somehow, Remus was trying to communicate to him, perhaps he was asking for forgiveness. 

Severus reached out his shaking hand and the wolf allowed his touch.

But then it backed away, turned and faced the forest. Setting its stance, it appeared as though the creature was preparing itself to stand guard, to protect Severus throughout the night, if needs be, from whatever creature might emerge next.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

“It’ll be light soon,” said Ron, glancing over at the tall windows.

“Shhhh,” whispered Hermione. She nodded to where Harry was sitting.

He’d finally fallen asleep in the squishy chair by the fireplace; that one had always been his favorite.

“Come over here,” Ron mouthed silently and she tiptoed over to snuggle up close with him.

They’d taken turns all night, sitting up with Harry whom was camped in the Gryffindor common room, waiting for any news about Severus.

He’d been missing for nearly thirty hours now. Slytherin had won their match sans their Head of House, his seat in the Slytherin box conspicuously empty.

Beside himself with worry, Harry had approached the Headmaster after the match had ended with Severus yet to be seen. The old wizard in turn delivered his usual advice — that Severus was skilled in these matters and not to fret. But as night approached and the spy had not yet returned, even Dumbledore acquiesced that something must have happened.

“There’s nothing we can do Harry, but wait.”

He promised to contact the young wizard immediately should any news develop and encouraged him to return to Gryffindor Tower to wait.

But as the seconds ticked on and the minutes crept into hours, his vigil grew into an endless night of oppressive worry. Nigh along three in the morning, Harry had had enough.

“I’ve got to do something! I just can’t just sit around and wait any longer. I’ve got to try and find him.”

“And just where do you plan to start looking?” asked Hermione, afraid that Harry would run off and do something foolish.

“I … I don’t know, maybe Hogsmead; there’s supposed to be one of those shacks somewhere around there.”

“Yes, and the Ministry and the Order have been searching for it for weeks now. Please Harry, don’t do this. Remember what happened when we raced off to the Minist…” she stopped herself and covered her lips with her fingers. 

“Hermione!” the shock in Ron’s tone of voice reflected Harry’s expression. “How could you …”

“Harry, I’m sorry.” She tried to back peddle. “I can’t believe I said that. Please …”

“No. It’s okay.” He had been standing, ready to sprint out the porthole any second. But Hermione’s words had nearly knocked the wind out of him, and he sank hard onto the chair. “You’re right, I was about to make that same mistake.”

“Listen, we’re all just tired,” said Ron. “Maybe we should try and get some sleep.”

“You two go on, I can’t sleep.”

“All right then,” Ron sighed and dragged a hand through his mussed up hair. “We’ll stay here with you.”

“No. Go on. I’ll be fine.”

“No way, Harry. We’re mates and we’re gonna stay here with you.”

~~~~~SH~~~~~

“Albus,” called Phineas from his portrait. “Albus!” he called a little louder.

“Hmmm?” Dumbledore sat up sleepy-eyed. He had fallen asleep on his bed fully clothed, having planned on closing his eyes for only a moment or two but looking outside now, he realized that it was nearly dawn.

“He’s back, Albus!”

“He is?” Dumbledore stood up, feeling stiff and tired. “Where is he? His quarters?”

“No. Hagrid took them to the hospital wing.”

“Hagrid? But he was with …” Then Dumbledore realized Phineas had said _them._

“You should have seen it Albus. Hagrid walking up the front lawn, one arm wrapped around each man, holding them up if you ask me.”

“Each?”

“Snape and Lupin,” Phineas said as though Dumbledore should have realized this fact already. “He took both of them to the infirmary. They are both injured.”

“Oh dear Merlin, what has happened.”

“Shall I let Potter know?”

Dumbledore was halfway out his bedroom door but stopped suddenly in response to the query and wondered to himself, just what it was the portraits knew about Severus and Harry’s relationship that he did not. “No. Let me check on his condition first.”

“All right, but don’t dally. The boy has been quite worried.”

“As have we all Phineas … as have we all.”

~~~~~SH~~~~~

In a blaze of golden light, Fawkes burst forth in the boys’ bathroom, just as Harry had pulled off his clothes to take a shower.

Reading the message from Dumbledore regarding Severus’ return, he threw his clothes right back on and ran as fast as he could down to the hospital wing on the third floor, skipping steps and leaping onto staircases that had already begun to turn.

He slid to a stop just outside the doors to the infirmary, drew in a deep breath to compose himself, _Always maintain your composure,_ and then pulled open the door.

Madame Pomfrey was standing beside the first bed, pouring out a dose of Skele-Gro for Zacharias Smith, one of the casualties from the previous day’s match, when Harry stepped into the infirmary.

“What have you done to yourself now, Mr. Potter?” asked the Mediwitch in response to his disheveled appearance. 

“Wha …Who, me? Nothing. I’m here to see Professor Snape.”

“Last bed on the right. But he’s sleeping so try not to disturb him.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

The hospital wing had never seemed as long as it did in those next few moments. _Why did she have to place him all the way at the end?_

Finally, he reached the privacy screen but instead of racing around the thing, he stopped.

All he had wanted, for what had seemed like an eternity, was to see Sev. But now that the moment was at hand, he found he couldn’t do it.

_What’s wrong with me?_

Before he could answer his own question, Dumbledore stepped out from behind the screen. “Harry? Are you all right?”

Harry looked up into the clear blue eyes of the Headmaster. “Sir, is he … all right?”

The last time Albus Dumbledore had seen this look upon Harry’s face, was that time in St. Mungos — in Anthony Goldstein’s hospital room, just after the attack on Samhain.

“He will be fine, Harry.”

“Do you know what happened? Where he’s been?”

Even though Dumbledore recounted the events in a reassuring tone of voice, his words left Harry’s heart pounding against his ribs. “And you’re certain Remus didn’t bite …”

“Quite,” he said assuredly. “Harry, Remus did not attack Severus. He _saved_ the man’s life.”

Feeling tears begin to well, Harry looked away, “Thanks for telling me, Sir.”

He patted Harry on the shoulder, “You’re quite certain that you’re all right?”

Keeping his head turned away and not trusting his voice, Harry merely nodded.

“Very well then, I need to check in on Professor Lupin.” Dumbledore tipped his head then walked across the aisle and around the privacy screen just opposite that of Severus’.

Harry inched forward and peered around the screen and his whole being sighed with relief at the sight of the wizard lying on the bed, asleep.

He sat down in the chair next to the head of the bed and studied the familiar face. It seemed fine — though perhaps a bit paler than usual. Then Harry took a hold of the potion stained hand. It was warm and confirmed to him that Severus was indeed — okay. He wasn’t dead. He wasn’t going to be in a coma for the rest of his life …

All of a sudden, the stress and worry from the long oppressive night welled up and spilled out in tears that rolled down his cheeks.

Harry’s breaths shook as he tried to corral his emotions.

He leaned forward and kissed Severus lightly then brushed back a stray lock of hair that had slid forward over his face. “Oh Sev,” the words fluttered along Harry’s shaky voice. 

His lids fluttered partially open, revealing tired, ebony eyes.

“Shhh,” Harry whispered. “Go back to sleep.” He carded his fingers lightly though the black hair until, without complaint, Severus closed his eyes and slept.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

Harry stayed with Severus all that day, he himself falling asleep as he sat by the bed with his head lolled awkwardly off to the side. And when he awoke, it was to a sore back, a stiff neck and a pounding headache.

Madame Pomfrey had threatened that if he didn’t go to the tower for a _proper rest,_ she would issue him a set of striped pajamas and make him sleep there in the infirmary. 

So, with a mild pain draught in hand and a promise from Severus that he’d see him in the morning, Harry headed off to the tower to sleep.

Later that evening after all the visitors had come and gone and the infirmary was settled and quiet, Severus sat up in his bed, sipping a cup of tea, as he pondered the events of the previous night.

The werewolf had behaved unlike Severus would have ever imagined.

Yes, he knew that Lupin had been taking the Wolfsbane potion on a regular basis and yes, he knew the effects it had on a werewolf.

But somehow, some part of Severus had believed that given the chance, Lupin — the werewolf would have attacked and tried to kill him, the events of the Shrieking Shack still vivid in his mind after all these many years.

Perhaps it was the emotional scar of that incident that had jaded his opinion of Lupin — the man. And as Severus thought about this, he realized that he had done the very same thing to Remus as he had with Harry. He had taken his bitter resentment of James Potter and let that tarnish his opinion of the man’s son. 

Severus sighed as he recognized his mistake.

He had acknowledged his error to Harry, years ago; perhaps it was time now to rectify matters with Remus.

Severus winced slightly as he reached over to set down the cup upon the nightstand. The wound from the Bicorn would take time to heal fully. 

He pulled back the covers and guarded his arm close to his aching side as he stood up and eased a robe over his shoulders.

Severus limped down the length of the bed, the old injury to the nerve in his leg had been exacerbated from his bout with the Cruciatus, and as with the Bicorn wound it too would take time to heal.

He made it across the aisle and stopped just shy of the privacy screen.

“Lupin,” he said softly. “Are you awake?”

“Yes,” Remus’ voice was a bit hoarse.

“May I speak with you?”

A moment’s pause, but then he answered, “Yes.”

Severus walked around the screen and regarded the man lying before him.

Remus had numerous scratches and wounds upon his face and arms. Those were the only parts of him exposed, there was no telling how many injuries the man had suffered about his body.

Severus limped over and sat down next to the bed. “I hope that your injuries are not too extensive.”

“Well, as Poppy said — they’re a long way from my heart.” 

They both tittered at the little joke, both feeling a bit uneasy in the other’s presence. 

“Listen Lupin, I …”

“Remus, please.”

“Remus,” Severus changed his address. “I want to thank you for saving my life.”

Lupin nodded his acknowledgement.

“I also wanted to,” Severus paused; apologizing still wasn’t one of his forte`s. He lowered his head and continued, “I wish to recognize the erroneous resentment and lack of decorum that I have exhibited toward you, all these years.”

It was a good thing Remus was lying down — already. His breath caught with his surprise as Severus continued.

“And I wish to apologize.”

It took a minute for Remus to finally respond. “Severus, I didn’t know that Sirius was planning to do that. I never would have intentionally …”

“I know,” Severus interrupted. “I know that now.” He looked unguarded into Remus’ hazel eyes, the same eyes that had looked imploringly to him, just the night before. “Can you forgive me?”

Remus eased his sore arm closer and offered his hand in good faith.

Severus raised his own hand, and the two men shook in acknowledgment of their new understanding and of a possible new friendship.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

 

**The last verse from Captain Stratton’s Fancy, by John Masefield


	36. Before The Storm

  
Author's notes: Here is the final chapter of Eclipse of the Soul. One year and one month of writing, two years in Harry's life and what I hope was a realistic (in a fanfic sort of way) development of Harry and Severus' relationship.  
Steppenwolf and I are already busy revising the trilogy version of The Catamite (the second story in this trilogy: The Temerity of Love). The first chapter will be posted today.  
And speaking of Steppenwolf: I cannot begin to express my gratitude to him for loyalty and dedication and for all that he has taught me. He rocks!  
All rights belong to JKR and the gang.   


* * *

36\. Before the Storm 

 

A group of little first years barreled out of the Defense classroom; some were pouting but most of them sported wide grins, revealing an occasional missing front tooth.

“I got an Outstanding!” exclaimed one of the first boys out the door.

“Me too!” added the little witch to his left. “But Bernard only got an Acceptable.”

The first boy turned back in surprise to the sad boy who followed him. “What happened Bernie? We practiced and practiced.”

“I couldn’t remember which way to swing my wand on Nox,” the red-haired boy whined.

“Oh, that’s an easy one. All ya do is …” the youngster stopped mid-sentence at the sight of Harry.

The entire group came to a halt and what had been a sea of flapping black robes settled to hang in silent folds at their sides.

“Hallo,” said Harry as he leaned against the wall; he’d been waiting for the first year DADA class to finish. “All done with your finals?”

They nodded in unison.

“You were really good on Sunday, Mr. Potter,” ventured the first boy, his voice cracking with nerves. After all, it wasn’t everyday a Hufflepuff first year had the opportunity to chat it up with the winning Seeker, Quidditch star, Head Boy, The Chosen One.

“Thanks.”

“How do you stay on your broom flying straight up and down like that?” asked the little witch. 

“And so fast!” added another.

“Oh, it just takes some practice,” Harry shrugged. 

“Madame Hooch’s class is my favorite,” chimed the red-haired boy, his pout now gone. “She’s taught us loads this year and I’m gonna do just that!”

“Do just what?”

“Practice my flying — everyday this summer. Then, when I’m old enough, I’m gonna try out for our Quidditch team!”

“What position?” Harry rarely had an opportunity to chat with the youngsters of the other houses. Standing here now, he found their innocent enthusiasm engaging.

“Seeker, just like you!”

The dinner chime sounded.

“You guys better hurry or you’ll miss dinner.” 

“Is it okay to call you Harry?”

“Sure it is.”

“Well then, bye Harry! Have a great summer!”

“You too. Bye.”

They all waved and hurried off down the hall. Harry chuckled to himself and wondered if he’d ever been that small. But his smile slid away when he remembered the reason for his being in this neck of the castle at this time of the day. 

Remus had just started up the stairs to his office when Harry stepped into the room. “Remus?”

The harried looking wizard turned in surprise. “Harry. What an unexpected pleasure.”

“Do you have a moment?”

“Of course I do. Please, come in.” Lupin set down the stack of tests. “Congratulations on winning the Cup this year. I heard you did a magnificent job on Sunday.”

Harry had crossed the room but stopped just shy of the podium. He grasped either side, subconsciously using it as a sort of barrier. “Thanks. Yeah, it’s especially nice having the win our final year.”

“Will you be staying at the castle this summer?” Remus had actually hoped this might be the case, thinking that perhaps with everyone gone he would finally be able to have some one on one time with Harry and work on bridging the huge gap between them.

“Uh, no. I’ve got other plans.”

His hopeful anticipation died behind his forced smile. “The Burrow, no doubt.”

“Maybe, for a bit … later on.” Harry was getting antsy. He hadn’t come here to talk about Quidditch or summertime plans. “Look, uh … I wanted to thank you for what you did.”

Remus wasn’t certain to what Harry was referring; was he being facetious about what Remus hadn’t done — all of Harry’s life? “What did I do?”

“What do you mean, ‘what did I do’?” Harry let go of the podium and held out his hands. “Everyone’s been talking about it the past two weeks - you know, fighting that Bicorn … saving Professor Snape’s life.”

“Oh that,” he sighed. “Why would you thank me for that?”

Down went the hands. Harry hadn’t expected that question and he suddenly felt defensive. “It’s just that he … well, he’s helped me a lot the past couple of years and we’re friends, that’s all.”

“There’s no need to be defensive.”

“I’m not being defensive,” Harry said defensively.

“Is something going on? Is this why you were down in dungeons at the beginning of term?”

Here again was another unexpected tack in the conversation.

Harry tried to recall what Severus had taught him concerning verbal tactics, but somehow at this very instance — all that advice escaped him. “Where I go and what I do is none of your business!”

“I wasn’t trying to pry! I just want to be your friend!”

“My friend?” Harry’s yelled. “My friend?” he repeated, even louder. “Don’t you think it’s a bit late for that?”

“Please don’t say that. If you could just understand …”

“Understand? I’ll tell you what I understand!” 

Harry stepped out from behind the podium; his emerald eyes were blazing. “I understand that you were never there when I was a kid living in that hell hole!”

All his insecurities and resentment that stemmed from Remus’ continued absence poured out as he yelled his pointed questions.

“Why did you leave after third year? Where were you after the Tri-Wizard Tournament? Where were you after Sirius died? Huh?” he pressed, “Huh?”

The fury being thrown at him left Remus shaken. “Harry please, let me explain.”

“Save it for someone else!” Shocked at himself and where his simple ‘thank you’ had wound up, Harry turned on his heel and marched straight out of the classroom. 

~SH~

“You know I want Potter to stay in the apartment arranged for him,” said Rufus Scrimgeour as he leaned back in his heavy leather chair and stared across his desk at Dumbledore, Shacklebolt and Robards. “It will be a perfect lure for You Know Who.”

“I repeat Minister, once you hear the details of our plan …”

“All right then,” the Minister yielded, “what is this great plan you’ve come up with?”

Albus turned to Robards. “Would you begin Gawain?”

The Head of the Auror department cleared his throat. “First of all, we plan to use the intended apartment, but it won’t be Potter staying there.”

“Oh really? Just whom did you have in mind?”

“An imposter.”

That got the Minister’s attention. “Go on.”

“I have two Aurors who are willing to take Pollyjuice potion so that they can stand in for Potter.”

“Two?”

“They’ll alternate, as this might become a very long assignment.”

“Continue.”

“A direct Floo will be set up in one of the auxiliary rooms next to my office devoted solely for transport to and from the apartment. Additionally, the room will be the site for Potter to Port-Key directly to his actual residence. Since his Auror classes are located near my office, he can report to this room at the end of each day and Port-Key to the dwelling in Cambridge. At the same time, my Auror will Floo to the apartment.”

“You Know Who is already aware of Potter’s plans to attend Auror School and that we want him to stay near the Ministry,” interjected Shacklebolt. “Later this summer, we’ll have Snape leak information identifying the exact location. Once classes begin and the fake Potter begins turning up at this flat on a regular basis, we believe You Know Who will send in his Death Eaters to abduct the young man.”

“Sounds like you’d be signing your Auror to a death sentence.”

“Not at all,” chimed Dumbledore. “The Auror on duty will have a Locatus charmed coin with him at all times. It will be triggered as soon as he is abducted and will in turn activate a homing beacon.”

“The homing beacon,” Robards took over, “will guide my awaiting contingent of Aurors to wherever the fake Potter has been taken. And that will in turn …”

“Lead us to the Fastness,” Scrimgeour finished the sentence with anticipation. “This is a marvelous idea!”

“We thought you’d think so.”

“All right, I’ll go along with this plan if you can justify all this nonsense about Potter living in Cambridge. What in Merlin’s name is that all about?”

“Rufus,” Albus said in a smoothing tone of voice. “Harry has been held virtually captive at Hogwarts the past two years. He simply wants to live his life.”

“But why Cambridge?”

“One of his good friends, a Miss Hermione Granger will be attending Oxford this fall.”

He paused long enough to pull out his tin of lemon drops and pop one in his mouth. “There’s a small cottage located just outside the city, which has been in my family for generations. It’s protected under a Fidelius charm and I thought it might provide a safe haven for Harry and his friends.”

“Dumbledore is the Secret Keeper,” interjected Shacklebolt. “It’s out of the way … You Know Who wouldn’t be so apt to go looking for Potter in Cambridge …”

The Minister held up his hand. “All right, you’ve convinced me. We’ll use the apartment in London for the sting operation and Potter can stay with his friends in Cambridge.”

Dumbledore smiled, “Thank you Minister. Harry will be very pleased to hear this.” 

~SH~

Neville entered the boys’ dorm and paused at the sight of Harry, lying on his bed staring up fixedly at the ceiling, “How come you didn’t come down for dinner?”

“Wasn’t hungry.”

“Somethin’ wrong?”

“No.”

“Oh.” Harry obviously didn’t want to talk about whatever was bothering him, so Neville changed the subject. “Hey, did you find your amulet?”

During Sunday’s match, while executing one of his vertical dives to try to catch the Snitch, Harry had somehow lost his amulet. 

“No, I tried summoning it but it didn’t come. I don’t what happened to it,” he replied and noticed that Neville had put on some cologne. “Hot date?” 

“Yeah, somethin’ like that; there’s a big end of year party in the Ravenclaw common-room. Why don’t you come? It’ll be fun.” 

Harry sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, “Nah, I can’t. I have my training final in just a bit, but thanks for the invite.”

He went over and looked out the window; there were students strolling about and sitting on the lawn. The reflection off the lake mirrored the peach hued sky tinted from the sun on the distant horizon. Even from this side of the glass, he could almost feel the lazy weight of calm that graced this summer’s eve.

It was the last week of school and there was an easy mood about the castle. Exams were finished and the last Quidditch match had been played. The specially arranged graduation ceremony would take place the next day, Saturday, followed by the Leaving Feast and then — everyone would board the Hogwarts Express on Sunday to return home for their summer vacation.

“What the hell are you doin’ in here?” asked Ron as he, Dean and Seamus filed into the room.

He had to step aside to skirt Harry, who was now making a beeline for his trunk, “Getting ready for my final.”

“But you missed dinner.”

“I wasn’t hungry.”

Ron knew what that meant. The conversation with Lupin had probably not gone well. He’d get the details later, when they were alone.

“Too bad you can’t come with us to the party,” Dean commented.

“You’re goin too?”

“Everyone is,” added Seamus.

Feigning remorse, Harry sighed as he slipped on his robe and then headed for the door. “This is my final exam. I can’t miss it.” He stepped outside the room but called back just before he closed the door, “Have fun.”

Neville stared at the now closed door as the others began to change their clothes for the party. “Why is it that Harry always gets the short end of the stick?”

“I know,” added Dean. “He’s had to stay here at the castle for almost two years.”

“We should do something fun … you know? I mean, before we all go home,” said Seamus from under the shirt he was pulling over his head.

“We could have a party, here … in our common room,” suggested Neville.

“No. I mean something crazy. Harry deserves to do something really fun.”

“You know,” Ron creased his eyebrows together in thought, “that’s a great idea, and it should be just the five of us.”

“Yeah, you’re right. So what should we do?”

“Dunno, but we can talk about it more at the party,” replied Ron. “Come on, let’s get going.”

~SH~

Harry spotted the stunning spell as it shot out from the wand just visible at the edge of an old wooden door to his left; he rolled to the ground to avoid being hit and called out, “Expelliarmus!”

The assailant’s wand flew up, arcing high above the young wizard who was now already looking ahead for the next challenge.

From his vantage point, Severus watched Harry make his way through the gantlet. Surmounting one challenge after another, his protégé had dodged spell fire, avoided booby traps and defeated a string of simulated Death Eaters. 

It had taken nearly forty minutes for the teen to finally reach the end of the gage, his training final. He’d had to use both defensive and offensive magic to complete his task, casting charms, spells, jinxes and hexes — sometimes combining two forms simultaneously, erecting temporary wards, employing strategy and tactics, and yes — even some hand to hand combat.

Exhausted, winded and bleeding from a cut on his right cheek, Harry waited for the next opponent to appear but instead he heard his Professor call out, “Congratulation, Mr. Potter. You passed.”

Harry whirled and looked up to see Severus descend a nearby balcony. “Passed? That’s it?” he asked as he tried to catch his breath. “Don’t I even get an Exceeds Expectations?”

Severus walked toward the teen until they stood face to face, that was when he noticed the cut on the flushed cheek. 

“Episky,” Severus incanted then ran his thumb lightly over the now healed wound to wipe away the trickle of blood. “You passed with an Outstanding,” he said and smiled. “You should be very proud of what you accomplished tonight.”

“It’s all because of you and everything you’ve taught me.”

Severus slid his hand down the lithe back. “I think this deserves a celebration.”

“Oh yeah?” Harry responded coyly as he pocketed his wand. “What did you have in mind?”

Severus turned to face the room. “We need to see the Ponte Vecchio.”

The Room of Requirement immediately transformed itself from the dark alleyway into the famous Italian, Medieval bridge.

“This is that place you took me on my birthday,” Harry extolled and then inhaled a lungful of the air, now humid and heady with scent from the lazy river that moved slowly beneath the shop laden bridge. 

The ceiling had become a night sky filled with stars and an opalescent moon that hung heavy above the horizon.

“Oh Sev,” Harry sighed as he pressed himself against the tall wizard, “this is so beautiful. Thank …” his gratitude was cut short when Severus began to kiss and caress the nape of his neck. 

He melted under the amorous advance and his mind began to spin as the kisses moved up his throat.

The roused teen turned and pulled Severus down for a full mouthed kiss. They held each other tightly as their kiss deepened and their tongues swirled. They kissed and kissed for the most lusciously longest length of time, each man growing harder with every passing second.

Harry found an open path and slid his hand into the left front pocket of Severus’ pants, and from behind this barrier of cloth he finally took hold of that hard length he’d so longed desired.

He began to stroke it.

“Clothes … stay … on,” whispered Severus between his kisses.

“Uh huh,” Harry uttered as he stroked Sev’s full shaft up and down, pausing sometimes at the sensitive tip and then delving further into the deep well of cloth, until he reached the tender spheres.

“No …” Severus sighed.

“Forget it Professor,” Harry whispered and pressed his smaller frame against the long torso, pushing Severus against a cool plastered wall. “Think of this as my graduation present.”

“But …”

“And I’m not gonna stop …” which he didn’t. He stroked and toyed and kissed as he pressed his own want against that endless thigh. He paced his persistence and continued his endeavors until amidst his own burning satisfaction, they both came. 

Harry slumped blissfully against Severus. “Mmmm,” he hummed and looked up into those delicious dark eyes. “I wish you didn’t have to go … we could stay here all night.”

“You know I can’t,” Severus said with regret and added a gentle kiss. “I have to finish my duties at the Fastness, but then …”

“… we’ll Port-Key to your villa,” Harry interjected.

“… for a proper celebration,” Severus finished.

They kissed once more then Harry laid his head against Severus’ chest and relished in the sound of his steady heartbeat. “I can’t believe we get to spend the whole summer together, just the two of us,” he said and then turned so that he now sat on Severus’ lap. He leaned in close and gave Sev that look, “And I wanna fuck you every – single – day.”

Severus succumbed to those green eyes and that sultry tone. 

Before Harry knew what happened, his jeans had vanished and all he had on was his school robe; he was lying on his back, on something soft and Severus was stroking him. 

“Oh God,” he sighed. He’d never been touched with such skill. The timing, the changes in pressure, the way Severus tantalized one area of his cock and then moved to another. He’d bring Harry almost to climax and then ease off just enough to hold him there.

Over and over Severus made him ride this wave of ecstasy and as he slowly worked his magic, Harry felt a curious feeling start to build. It began in his toes or maybe it was his heart, or somewhere in between - he couldn’t tell. It was so enticing and yet as it strengthened – it became ominous and even a bit frightening. In time he felt like he was standing on the edge of a precipice; it beckoned him to dive in but at the same time it was too powerful to face.

“Let go Harry,” Sev’s whispered voice seem to call to him from far away, “let it happen.”

Harry trusted Sev and so he relaxed and released himself into the power of his own powerful climax. It was unlike any orgasm he’d ever experienced for this wasn’t just a physical release but one that encompassed his very soul. 

Through his ecstasy and immense pleasure, his distant joys and sorrows surfaced from somewhere deep inside; they engulfed him and he moaned and moaned as his emotions and rapture swept through him and out of him. Eventually the intense feeling subsided and then diminished until it was totally gone and left the teen feeling raw and completely undone.

Severus pulled Harry close. He carded his fingers through the damp raven hair as he laced the tear stained cheeks with gentle kisses.

“That was so amazing,” Harry whispered. “I didn’t know it could be like that.”  
“Are you all right?” asked Severus.

“Yeah,” Harry answered and buried his face against Severus’ chest. “I’m sorry I cried.”

“Don’t ever apologize for that Harry,” he said and stroked his fingertips up and down the tone back.

They were silent for a while as Severus relished in the moment and Harry tried to make sense of what had just happened. 

“There’s something I want to tell you.”

Harry tensed, “Is something wrong?” 

“No. Everything is fine … more than fine,” Severus said as he continued his caress. “I want to tell you that I …” 

For so long he’d wanted to express his love to Harry, try to explain how much he’d changed because of him but such things were difficult for Severus. “I just want to thank you.”

“For what?”

It was a moment before Severus answered, “For helping me to face my demons.”

Because of what had happened during his transformation and all the experiences they had shared, Harry knew exactly what Sev was talking about. “I had Helena to help me deal with my demons, but you Sev — you dealt with yours all on your own. I didn’t do anything.”

“That isn’t true Harry. If it hadn’t been for you, I would still be that bitter closed off person.”

Harry interlaced his fingers with the long elegant ones, stained from years of brewing potions. “We’ve been through so much, you and me.” He looked for a long time into the sable colored eyes; they held no mystery this night, but showed only sincerity — and something else.

“What?” Harry asked. “What are you thinking?”

“I … “Severus tried again but those three little words were so elusive and just beyond his reach. “You mean a great deal to me.”

Harry knew how hard it was for Severus to express his innermost feelings.

He reached up and kissed this amazing person, this man whom had brought him to his limits and back again. Someone who had, at one point in time, been a complete mystery to him — but over the years and through their joint struggles, this enigma had somehow become his soul mate.

“I love you too, Sev.”

~SH~

Epilogue

At the same moment these two wizards were declaring their love for each other, Voldemort stood in the solarium of the King’s chamber of the Fastness and stared out over the river to the distant treetops and beyond.

He pulled and twisted his wand through the tips of his boney fingers, thinking and planning how he would go about killing his longtime foe, once he was captured and brought to him.

“Only a few months now Harry Potter … and then you shall die.” 

Fin

 

Author’s note:  
This concludes part one in the series ‘The Tenacity of Love’. If you’ve come this far, please take a moment to share your thoughts with me.  
The series continues with the sequel ‘The Catamite.’  
Thank you for reading,  
SHaria


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